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THE KNOUT, 

»» 

\ TALE OE POLAND. ' 


TRANSLATED FROM TUB FRENCH, 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, 
216 Sourn Third Street. 

U^nj. 






x<0 




Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1856, b) 
PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, 

In the OflSce of the Clerk of the District Court of the Eastern 
l)istrict of Pennsylvania. 


S. Douglas "WyETH, Agt;, Stkkeotyper, No. 7 Pear 




PREFACE. 


\ 

“ Some two years ago/' says the JYew York 
Freemans JournpX “ we recollect, that, in ex¬ 
plaining what kind of stories Catholics might 
read with safety, if not with profit, we in¬ 
stanced the Polish story of “ The Knout, per¬ 
ceiving that its principles and sentiments were 
such as Catholic faith inspires. We have 
thought, therefore, that we could furnish our 
readers with no piece of light literature'more 
entertaining and instructive than a good and 
spirited translation of “ The Knout. 

Whether the translation isgood and spir¬ 
ited” we cannot pretend to say, but it is now 
offered to the public precisely as it appeared 
in the columns of the JYew York Freeman^s 
Journal, vfitli the additional advantage of a 
careful revision by the translator. 

JJontreal, April, 1856. 



C 0 iS[ T E K T S . 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. The Gommencement of our story - • 7 

II. The Count Bialewski - - - - 25 

III. Surprise by Russian Soldiers - . - ?>9 

IV. Wolf Hunt.52 

V. Stanislaus Dewello, and his worthy steward G5 

VI. Raphael and Lady Rosa - - - 82 

VII. Revolutionary meeting in the Forest - - 92 

VIII. Castle Bialewski.lOG 

IX. Opening of the Campaign * - - 119 

' X. Raphael’s Mission to Wilna - - 132 

XI. Progress of the Revolution - - - 141^ 

XII. The siege and fall of Warsaw - - - J58 

XIII. Arrest of Rosa.176 

XIV. Punishment of the Knout - - - - 191 

XV. Raphael at Culm - - • - - 205 ^ 

XVI. Abbe Choradzo—The persecution - - 219 

XVII. Raphael journeys to Siberia • - 238 

XVin. The exiles—Their final escape - - - 245 







THE KNOUT, 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

In 1621, when the Polish anil^assaclors pre¬ 
sented to Paul the Fifth the banners taken 
from the infidels, and piously besought him for 
relics, the venerable Pontiff replied: “Why 
ask ye me for relics ?—you have but to pick up 
a little of your Polish earth, every particle of 
which is the relic of a martyr.’’ In what words, 
then, might Christendom now address that long- 
suffering, and most heroic nation? In the be¬ 
ginning of the seventeenth century. Catholic 
Poland generously shed her blood at Chocim, 
and subsequently under the walls of Vienna, 
braving and repelling on those two memoralile 
occasions, the attack of seven hundred thousand 
Turks. She fought for the common good of 
Europe, but encircled by a halo of glory, and 
cheered on by plaudits the loudest and most 
enthusiastic. Poor Poland! she was then for¬ 
midable by her power, and illustrious by her 
achievements. 






7 



8 


THE KNOUT, 


Who could then have foreseen that those 
very nations of Europe which owed their salva¬ 
tion to Poland, would one day form a coalition 
to despoil and subjugate their deliverer ? And 
yet so it stands on the face of history. Arti¬ 
fice, perfidy, violence, were each in turn brought 
to bear on the unhallowed work, and Poland 
fell. In 1733, Russia, in concert with Austria, 
invaded Poland, entered Warsaw, deposed 
Stanislaus, the king, and proclaimed in his 
stead Augustus the Third. Thirty years later, 
Catherine the Second placed one of her crea¬ 
tures on. the tottering throne of Poland, and 
the Russian ambassador might truly say to that 
phantom of Royalty ; “You see I am your 
master, and you are to remember that your 
crown depends on your entire submissionIn 
1768, the Confederation of Bar essayed, but 
vainly, to shake ojff the Russian yoke, and the 
kingdom was given up to the pitiless fury of 
a savage soldiery. At length came the dread 
torture of dismemberment—Prussia, Austria, 
and Russia tearing asunder their unhappy vic¬ 
tim, and dividing amongst themselves her yet 
palpitating members. Poland, after all, wms 
not dead—the breath of life was not yet ex¬ 
tinguished, and she made an attempt to rise 
by the liberal constitution of the 3d May, 1791. 
A new struggle followed—the national cause was 
fettered by the weakness of the king, Stanis¬ 
laus Augustus, and at its close saw the popula¬ 
tion of Poland reduced to three millions— 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


9 


whereas, she had once numbered twenty within 
her fkir provinces. But such a people can 
never remain quiescent under the lash of op¬ 
pression—they rose again in 1794, when 
Kosciusko—the intrepid Kosciusko—achieved 
prodigies of valor in his mighty struggle with 
the allied powers; but in vain his prowess—he 
fell on the fatal field of Macieiowick, and soon 
after, twenty thousand victims, consisting of old 
men and young children, women and girls were 
brutally massacred in Praga, at the very gates 
of Warsaw. Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski, 
the ex-favorite of Catherine, and the last king 
of Poland, abdicated, and that ill-fated king¬ 
dom was definitely divided between her three 
murderers, banished from amongst the nations, 
and deprived even of her distinctive name. 
Yet the drama ended not there. Fired by the 
victories of Napoleon, this nameless, this dis¬ 
severed nation again started into life, and fol¬ 
lowed with renewed hope the steps of the 
conqueror. Napoleon gave but a cool welcome 
to auxiliaries who sought but the restoration 
of their ancient independence, so that, instead 
of erecting Poland (as policy even, would have 
dictated) into a free state, whose gratitude 
would have made it an effective ally, he was 
led by his infatuated ambition into Kussia, 
where destruction fell upon him. The great 
opportunity lost to Poland, she was for the 
fourth time divided amongst her greedy and 
ungrateful neighbors. The Emperor Alexander 


THE KNOUT. 


iO 

behaved nobly to the provinces which fell to 
his share, and promulgated a constitution in 
strict accordance with the engagement entered 
into at the Congress of Vienna. But such 
generosity could not last on the part of Russia. 
Alexander was sirtjceeded by Nicholas—the re- '' 

action of despotism speedily set in, and new 
chains were forged for unhappy Poland. 

This brings us to the close of 1830, when the 
events occurred which we are about to relate. 

It is not easy to imagine the utter wretchedness 
of a country which had lain for sixty years 
under the iron yoke of the oppressor—torn and 
tortured by every species of cruelty and perse¬ 
cution. Terror overspread the land, for the 
Russian government was known to have its 
thousands of spies stationed throughout the 
provinces, in order to give information of even 
the faintest symptom of revolution. The bro- ‘ 
ken-spirited Poles glided through their towns 
and cities more like shadows than living men 
—neither in the streets, on the public prome¬ 
nades, nor even in private assemblies, did any 
man dare to give utterance to a patriotic senti¬ 
ment, though it Avere to his dearest friend. 
Members of the same family, when separated by 
distance, might no longer enjoy the pleasure of 
a imitual correspondence, for the seal was un¬ 
hesitatingly broken by an infamous and unprin¬ 
cipled police. On the most trifling accusation 
a citizen would disappear, and not even an 
answer as to his fate could be obtained by his 


t 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


11 


afflicted family. The dungeons were filled with 
unhappy victims, and Siberia beheld with 
amazement her dreary deserts peopled with the 
fair sons of Poland. 

Was it not, then, matter of surprise and ad¬ 
miration that Poland, bruised and broken as 
she was, even then contemplated the prospect 
of deliverance ? Her heroic sons were wont to 
assemble in the impervious shades of her dense 
forests, and under cover of the night to concert 
measures for yet another attempt to liberate 
their suffering country, holding their own in¬ 
dividual lives as naught, could that glorious end 
be attained by tlieir sacrifice. This great ques- 
was agitated (secretly, of course,) from one end 
of the country to the other, and the time had 
arrived when each awaited the summons to 
arise and smite the oppressor. 

Such was the state of affairs, when, on the 
morning of the 1st of December, 1830, a young 
Polish nobleman, named Raphael Ubinski, rode 
along by the shores of the Uiesnen, in the 
neighborhood of Grodno: a splendid hunting 
train by which he was preceded giving sufficient 
indication of the rank and fortune of its mas¬ 
ter. The hounds made the shore resound with 
their joyous baying, and the hunters, mounted 
each on a gallant courser, sounded at intervals 
their lively chorus, whereupon whole troops 
of boys and children, darting forth from the 
adjacent cottages, took their places in the rear 
of the cortege, eager to share in the «ports of 



12 


THE KNOUT, 


the day. The fair face of nature, faded as it 
was by the icy touch of winter, wore .at that 
moment when lit up by the rays of the wintry 
sun, such a charm as we see on the pallid coun« 
tenance of a dying maiden when she smiles a 
melancholy smile. In front lay a spacious 
plain. On one side the river rolled on in peace¬ 
ful majesty, its waves borrowing a rich purple 
tint from the rosy clouds of the early morning; 
while on the other, the dark line of the leafless 
forest was traced in broken and irregular un¬ 
dulations on the bright sky beyond. Yet neither 
the unhoped-for beauty of the day nor the noisy 
gaiety of huntsman or peasant, could brighten 
the serious and somewhat anxious face of the 
young nobleman, who rode at some distance 
behind his troop, as though to pursue his reflec¬ 
tions undisturbed. 

Eaphael Ubinski, who had lost both his pa¬ 
rents some years prior to the opening of my 
tale, was then about twenty-five or twenty-six 
years of age. Pie lived retired on his paternal 
estates with liis maternal grandmother, a woman 
whose high moral courage and unbending prin¬ 
ciples of rectitude commanded RaphaePs respect 
and admiration, as her judicious kindness won 
his warmest affection. Brought up as he had 
been in the ways of religion and virtue, he 
knew how to resist all the gaudy seductions of 
youth and prosperity. Study was the amuse¬ 
ment of his leisure hours, and deeply struck 
with the impression that a son of Poland might 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


13 


serve her by the powers of his mind as well as 
by his sword, he applied every faculty to make 
himself worthy of those high avocations to 
which he was by birth entitled. Yet Raphael 
was far from being ambitious, but seeing as he 
fully did the deplorable condition to which his 
country was reduced, he ardently desired to de¬ 
vote himself to her deliverance. There had 
been a time when, led away by the enthusiasm 
of youth, he had thought that force alone could 
remedy the misfortunes of Poland, and had 
thrown himself heart and soul into those secret 
societies which, eluding the vigilance of the Rus¬ 
sian police, multiplied throughout the provinces. 
But, according as his reason and judgment were 
matured by study and reflection, he had become 
sensible that his unhappy country had no chance 
for success in a struggle with three great pow¬ 
ers united against her to retain her in bondage; 
This saddening conviction had for some time 
damped the ardor of those hopes, which nothing 
could entirely destroy, founded, as they were, on 
those sacred and immutable rights for which he 
would willingly have laid down his life. “Alas, 
no! ” would he sigh, in bitter sorrow, “ God can 
never sanction deeds of violence and treason, 
yet Poland, poor exhausted land, cannot surely 
be doomed to groan in perpetual slavery. 
There must be some means of deliverance for 
her. Oh! that it were given me to know them! 
After numberless reflections on this all-engross¬ 
ing subject, he arrived at the conclusion that 
2 


14 


THE KNOUT, 


Poland must needs have patience, and prepare 
herself by a high and pure morality for what¬ 
ever contingencies might arise in her favour.— 
In the actual condition of the people, and the 
violent agitation of men’s minds thei'e were 
many signs whereby a reflecting and philosophic 
mind might dive into the future. These ideas, 
now settled into convictions, had effected an 
entire change in the mind and in the conduct of 
Raphael, so that, instead of fomenting the an¬ 
gry impatience of his fellow-patriots, and urging 
them on to that violent demonstration which he 
now saw would but make matters worse, he 
sought only to restrain their impetuosity, and to 
prove to them that they could best serve their 
country by applying themselves to foster and 
develop the national virtues. But this language, 
being new to them, was not often understood, 
while the reserve which-Raphael was wont to 
assume when violent measures were under dis¬ 
cussion, placed him in that false position, wherein 
a man appears, in the eyes of the impetuous and 
unthinking, to be undecided as to his course, 
simply because he aims only at what is practica¬ 
ble, and knows better than any other the means 
of attaining his end. 

Such were the reflections of Raphael as he 
rode along by the river on the morning in ques¬ 
tion. He was on his way to join a great chase 
in the domains of the Count Bialewski, which 
chase was neither more nor less than a pretext 
fo" assembling the neighbouring noblemen, so 


A TILE OF POLAND. 


15 


that they might stimulate each other in the pur¬ 
suit of freedom, and at the same time concert 
the needfVil measures for a struggle which could 
not now be distant. Raphael was more than a 
little embarrassed by the awkwardness of his 
position in regard to his friends, knowing that 
time alone could justify his opinions, and he 
shrank from assemblies like the present where 
he found it difficult to defend his convictions. 
But why, then, did he accept the invitation of 
the Count, a veteran soldier of exalted patriot¬ 
ism, whose wffiole soul was on fire with the de¬ 
sire of doing battle against the Russians? In 
the first place, having once entered with all sin¬ 
cerity into the views and hopes of his fellow- 
patriots, he knew not how to withdraw himself 
with any sort of grace from their councils; and 
in the next place, why Count Bialewski had a 
lovely daughter, and Raphael was but twenty- 
five. This daughter of the Count, fair as lover 
could desire, the co-heiress of a rich inheri¬ 
tance, and gifted with many rare qualities, both 
of mind and heart, was naturally an object of 
exceeding interest to all the young nobles in her 
vicinity. She was now in her twentieth year, 
but her father had been known to declare that 
he would not give her in marriage till she was 
twenty-one at least. In the meantime many 
suitors presented themselves, and amongst them 
Raphael stood eagerly forward. It was not for 
him, then, to refuse the Count’s invitation, and 
still less could he do so, a§ he knew full well 


16 


THE KNOUT, 


that there would not be wanting some, who, in 
the hope of prejudicing Rosa against him, would 
represent his peculiar political opinions in the 
most unfavourable light, whereas he felt within 
his soul a certain energy of conviction which 
assured him that he could well justify himself 
when present. 

Reflecting thus, alternately on the sad condi¬ 
tion and cheerless prospects of his country, and 
the serious difficulties of his own individual 
position, he was journeying towards the castle, 
when he saw rapidly approaching, by a cross 
road, a gay and numerous hunting party. A 
moment after, he recognized in its chief, one of 
his friends, named Stanislaus Dewello, who, 
coming eagerly forward, greeted Raphael in the 
most cordial manner. 

“I am so much the more gratified by this en¬ 
counter, my dear Raphael,” he exclaimed with 
animation, “ that I had little expected to meet 
you here.” 

“ And why so ?” 

“ Wliy, because we scarcely ever see you now- 
a-days. You seem to shrink from the compan¬ 
ionship of your former friends, and wrap your¬ 
self up in gloomy reserve, until we are brought 
to ask each other whether we can indeed count 
on you in the noble enterprise to which we are 
all devoted ?” 

Before I take upon me to answer you, my 
dear Stanislaus,” said Raphael, lowering his 
voice “ will you be kind enough to inform me 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


17 


whether it is your indispensable custom to have 
that worthy steward of yours stationed as close 
behind as though he were your shadow T’ 

“ Oh returned Stanislaus, “ you need have 
no fears on that head; he is in all respects a 
most faithful fellow, and (between ourselves be 
it said) he has saved me from utter ruin, half a 
score of times at least. Nevertheless, I will 
send him away for the present, for if you will 
only hear me, I have something of importance 
to communicate. Firley, my good friend, 
turning to the steward, “ we desire to be left 
alone just now, and let us have a little quiet, 
too, by all means—so you will tell our noisy 
hunters to keep their fanfaras for a more fit¬ 
ting moment. That's a good fellow—go now 
The man scarcely attempted to repress a ges¬ 
ture of discontent, yet he gave the spur to his 
horse and rode away, an ironical smile curling 
on his lip. 

“Are you sure of that man?” inquired Ra¬ 
phael, who had observed him closely. 

“As sure as I am of myself!” promptly re¬ 
joined Stanislaus. 

“It is well. And now, Stanislaus, can it be 
necessary for me to assure you again and again, 
that however much I may disapprove of your 
present plans, I am still entirely devoted to the 
same end at which you all aim ? ” 

“I believe it, Raphael, I believe it; but, 
nevertheless, if it be permitted to each of us to 
have and entertain our own private opinions on 
2 * 



.18 


THE KNOUT, 


the subject, should we not all submit our judg¬ 
ment to that of the majority, that by our unani¬ 
mity we may ensure success to the national 
cause ? ” 

“ Alas! ’’ sighed Raphael, “ I can never adopt 
your views, for I see all too clearly the dread 
abyss into which you are hurrying. On the 
contrary, I must ever protest against a course 
of action, the result of which will be still deeper 
misery for our common country. But if, not¬ 
withstanding my earnest remonstrances, you are 
still determined to drag that hapless country 
into a fruitless struggle, then I can only say 
that my duty will not permit me to absent my¬ 
self from your ranks.’’ 

“So far, well, my fiu'end. And now to speak 
plainly, as one friend to another. I would 
rather not see you at the castle to-day.” 

“ What do you mean by that? ” inquired Ra¬ 
phael, with surprise. 

“ Why, just this — that your eloquence may 
have its effect in cooling the zeal of our friends, 
at a time, too, when we require all the courage 
and all the energy we can bring to bear. Be¬ 
sides,-you cannot hope to effect a change in our 
counsels, for we are in hourly expectation of 
hearing that which will draw our swords from 
their scabbards. Leave us then to act as occa¬ 
sion may require; nor seek to interfere with 
our arrangements through your influence with 
the.Count, remembering always that though he 
ever seems to hear you with attention, he neither 
can nor will adopt your advice.” 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


19 


“ Nevertheless, my good friend, you will allow 
that I know best what suits me, so you must 
e’en put up with my company as far as the 
castle.” 

“ Ay, marry, my master! You can do as you 
like, and I have only to confess myself a con¬ 
summate dolt for having tried to turn you from 
a path which leads you to the bower of your 
lady-love. Notv I am sure you cannot deny that 
neither politics nor patriotism forms the sole 
subject of your grave cogitations!” 

“ Nay, it were scarcely prudent in me to make 
a confident of one so prone to laughter. So, 
think as you may on that score, I am not to be 
persuaded from availing myself of the invitation 
witli which the Count has honoured me ? ” 

“ Since that is the case, then,” cried Stanis¬ 
laus, quickly, “ I am bound to speak plainly and 
seriously, even at the risk of awakening your 
astonishment. You know me well enough co 
understand that I am pretty well skilled in the 
art of pleasing, and not less penetrating as to 
the success of such endeavours as have the 
favour of the fair for their end and aim. Now 
were you to ask me, on the strength of my 
superior judgment in such matters, what I think 
of your prospects with the Lady Eosa, (nay, 
hear me out, man — I have a right so to speak,) 
1 should tell you candidly and fairly that you are 
but losing time, and had better go seek your 
fortune elsewhere. Heretofore it was quite 
allowable for you to pay your court to the lady 


20 


THE KNOUT, 


— ay, and win her, if you could—but now the 
case is widely altered. When a decided pre¬ 
ference has been shown, we should at once give 
way to the successful candidate.” 

“And that successful candidate—” demanded 
Raphael, with a faltering voice and a pale cheek. 

“He stands before you, my dear Cato!” 

On hearing this announcement, Raphaers first 
thought was expressed by an incredulous and al¬ 
most contemptuous smile. But when he looked 
upon the beaming face of his rival, a thousand 
anxious thoughts took possession of his mind, 
and gave him more uneasiness than he would 
have been willing to confess. However he might 
seek to repel the idea that the noble heart of 
Rosa could be caught by the merely superficial 
advantages of Stanislaus, he could not conceal 
from himself the fact that it would be difficult 
to find a more accomplished or more attractive 
cavalier. His figure was tall and commanding, 
yet perfectly elegant; and his handsome fea¬ 
tures were illumined with a sprightly and 
spirited expression which gave them no ordinary 
charm. Moreover, Stanislaus was lively and 
generous — was gifted with uncommon powers 
of persuasion, and had all the dauntless bravery 
of the knights of old. But on the other side, 
(for all things earthly have their shade,) his 
character had no solidity; he was prodigal, vo¬ 
latile, passionately fond of pleasure, and the 
sworn foe of anything like labour. And yet, 
as Raphael inwardly exclaimed, how light might 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


21 


each of these faults appear in a young man who, 
like Stanislaus, could throw a charm even 
around his failings! 

As for Raphael himself, he could bear no com¬ 
parison to his brilliant rival. There was noth¬ 
ing in his appearance to attract attention, save 
only that unpretending and quiet grace which 
denotes the truly well-bred man. His'counte¬ 
nance was rather interesting than handsome, 
and yet from the nobleness of its outline, and 
the intellectual expression of its every feature, 
it was just the face to rivet the attention of a 
superior mind. Yet, on a first glance (and such 
leaves generally the most duraWe impression,) 
it was impossible not to admire the singularly 
fine features of Stanislaus. There was, there¬ 
fore, nothing improbable in the declaration 
Raphael had just heard ; and so deep was his 
emotion, that it required all his self-control to 
preserve an appearance of composure. Still, he 
did not despair, being well acquainted with the 
extreme self-confidence which formed a distinc¬ 
tive mark in the character of his rival, and 
after a short silence, he replied : 

“I am fain to believe, Stanislaus, that you 
would never have spoken so confidently did you 
not deem yourself fully authorized. Never¬ 
theless, you must permit me to say that knowing 
as I do the extreme reserve usual to the Lady 
Rosa, together with that shrinking delicacy of 
feeling which belongs to her, I must still doubt 
whether you are as certain of her real senti¬ 
ments as you seem to think. 



22 


THE KNOUT, 


i( Why, Raphael, you must assuredly take 
for a fool, to suspect me of makiugiin idle boast 
where success was still doubtful ‘i” 

“Tell me, then, on what grounds do you build 
your hopes? for I dare affirm that you have 
received no formal consent from either Rosa or 
he« father.” 

“It is true, I have not; yet the thing must 
be beyond all doubt when our mutual friend and 
common rival, Leopold Majoski, said to me only 
yesterday, that he believed it sheer folly to com¬ 
pete with me, and that he felt himself con¬ 
strained to waive his pretensions in my favour. 
May I die if I exaggerate in the least, as, on 
the contrary, I omit much of what he said, lest 
it might tire you to listen I ” 

“ That may all be,” rejoined Raphael, dryly, 
“ and yet I do not despair.” 

“ You do not despair! Why, see you not, 
my dear Raphael, that there exists between the 
Lady Rosa and myself .the most perfect unison 
of taste and feeling ? You cannot but remem¬ 
ber, I am sure, that on winter evenings, when 
we assembled for music, she and I invariably 
sang together, nor the equally evident fact that 
when we meet in the ball-room I am ever her 
favorite partner. Have you not observed that 
when we walk together, my arm is sure to be 
eagerly accepted—not to say, sought? while in 
the chase, does she not always recognise your 
humble servant as the most skilful equerry that 
ever shielded lady fair from the perils of the 


A TALE OF POLAND. 23 


forest ? Are you so blind as not to see the ad¬ 
vantages to be derived from these occasions, so 
trifling in themselves—the numberless sweet 
words and interesting conversations which 
spring from this, our intimacy, strengthening 
. and confirming my exclusive rights ? ” 

“ Were these the only means of pleasing the 
Lady Rosa,” returned Raphael, in a tone half 
serious, half ironical, “ I must own it would be 
downright folly to compete with you, and it 
would only remain for me to follow Leopold’s 
example, and resign in your favor. But-” 

“ But the grave Raphael chooses to imagine 
that a young damsel may be caught by a philo¬ 
sophical or literary disquisition, or that she 
may be fascinated by the political speculations 
of a senator that is to be, or that she might be 
led to conceive an interest in a religious con- 
ti*oversy. Considering himself a perfect master 
in each and all of these matters, he very prob¬ 
ably fancies that they may overbalance the 
trifling counter-advantages of his rivals. Oh, 
sanctified simplicity! how richly you deserve a 
heavenly crown, since, alas! you are not likely 
to obtain your earthly reward! ” 

“ Go on at your leisure, Stanislaus, for you 
know I am proof against both raillery and sar¬ 
casm. Yet I cannot refrain from reminding 
you that magnanimity becomes a victor.” 

“ But do you really dispute my claim to that 
title?” 

' I dispute, nothing. But when the Count 
decides against me, in his daughter’s name, then 



24 


THE KNOUT, 


I shall silently withdraw my claim. I may even 
add that defeat will lose something of its bitter¬ 
ness if you are to be the conqueror.’' 

“ Many thanks, my friend, and I cannot but 
admire your resignation even in perspective, 
though I much fear I could never imitate it in 
such a case. But this, I suppose, is one of the 
advantages of having ^hat are called the 
Christian virtues. I have now only to say that 
being ivarned, you are already half armed. 
But here we are at the Castle, and without 
enmity I hope ?” 

“Oh, certainly!” said Raphael, aloud; but 
within himself he said—“ Yes truly, if Rosa 
has been allured by the brilliant exterior of 
this young man—if she has yielded herself to 
the fascination of his manner and address, then 
have I but little cause for regret. If such be 
the case, I have been lamentably mistaken In 
my estimate of her character. A thousand 
others are as fair to look upon, and those per¬ 
fections of mind and heart for which I loved 
her being thus found unreal, I can with compa¬ 
rative ease submit to her decision. Such a 
w^oman w^ould be ill-suited to share the iron 
destiny which aw^aits me as a son of Poland. 
But why all this ? am I sure that I have been 
deceived in Rosa ? ” 

Raphael would doubtless have protracted his ’ 
reflections still farther, had he not just then 
arrived at the gates of Count Bialewski’s castle, 
which he entered with a full resolution to have 
his suspense ended either one way or the other. 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


25 


CHAPTEE II. 

Viewed from the farther extremity of tlie 
plain on which it was situated, the castle formed 
an exceedingly fine perspective. Though made 
up of various styles of architecture, its outline 
was anything but discordant. In the centre 
rose a massive tower of three stories, crenelated 
and surmounted by a pointed spire, reminding 
the beholder of the pure and light architectural 
fbrms of the thirteenth and fourteenth centu¬ 
ries. The tower was flanked by two wings of 
a much later erection, being evidently not older 
than the seventeenth century, but they were so 
contrived that their high casements, tall roofs, 
and tapering minarets, were in harmonious 
keeping with the more ancient pile in the centre. 
On the left, and rather behind the castle stood 
a charming chapel, which, with its pyramidal 
steeple, added yet another charm to the noble 
edifice. Around all ran a wide and deep moat, 
beyond which, on every side, stretched vast 
smiling meadows. The whole of this great 
mass of architecture stood forward in bold 
relief from an immense amphitheatre of dark 
woods, composed of trees whose giant propor¬ 
tions were the growth of centuries. 

The Count came forth and received his guests 

3 


26 


THE KNOUTj 


with a kind and friendly welcome. In person 
he was tall and robust, and might have counted 
some three score years, yet though his head 
wore the silver hue of age, there was about 
him no trace or token of declining strength, 
and his fine countenance had at once a noble 
and a martial look. Familiarly taking the arm 
of each of the two young men, he ascended with 
them the steps which led to the grand entrance, 
and conducted them to a parlor where, by the 
side of a large and cheerful fire, was seated the 
Countess Rosa, with the Yicar, and two gentle¬ 
men of the neighborhood, who were intimate 
friends of the family. The face of each indi¬ 
vidual of the group wore a grave and clouded' 
aspect, and a glance at any of them sufficed to 
show that the real purpose, of the present as¬ 
semblage was far, far otherwise than it had 
been announced. Nevertheles, Stanislaus, with 
his characteristic assurance, approached Rosa, 
and very soon succeeded in drawing her into 
one of those gay and animated conversations 
which gave him the best opportunity to show 
off the peculiar graces of his mind. Raphael, 
on the contrary, having exchanged with Rosa a 
formal salutation, took his place directly oppo¬ 
site between the Count and the priest. Yet he 
could not refrain from casting many an anxious 
glance towards the young Countess, and his 
heart sank within him as he saw the frequent 
smile with which she greeted the lively sallies 
of Stanislaus, thus seeming to justify, as Ra- 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


27 


phael thought, the boasting of his rival. From 
these most unwelcome reflections he was speedily 
aroused by the startling importance of the news 
which the count proceeded to communicate. 

“ My dear friend,” said the Count, address¬ 
ing himself more particularly to Raphael, whose 
hand he,affectionately took, “notwithstanding 
the difference of opinion which has within the 
last year or two sprung up between us, I am yet 
fain to regard you as one of the worthiest, and 
most devoted sons of Poland. Hence I am 
about to tell you what now engrosses our exclu- 
clusive attention. Rendered desperate by the 
multiplied sufferings of this our native land, we 
have come to the final resolution of making yet 
another attempt to obtain her independence. 
From day to day we are looking out for the 
signal from Warsaw, awaiting which we are all 
here preparing to gird on the sword as an ex¬ 
ample for all Lithuania. You may say that this 
is nothing new, being neither more nor less 
than a farther step in our year-long projects. 
But now I solemnly assure you that the time 
for action is at length come, and we are on the 
eve of a great revolution.” 

“ Our distance from Warsaw, together with the 
extreme danger of committing such matters to 
paper, effectually prevents us from knowing the 
day appointed for the insurrection; but as soon 
as it has declared itself, and that there will be 
no danger of further procrastination, we shall 
be at once apprised, for my son Casimir, who is, 


28 


THE KNOUT, 


as you know, keeping garrison in Warsaw, has 
promised to brave every danger to open a com¬ 
munication between us and the centre of action. 
And now, Raphael, may I ask, without giving 
offence, what course do you propose taking amid 
the stirring scenes before us ? 

This question was followed by a profound 
silence, each one awaiting with lively interest 
the decision of the young noble. Even Stan¬ 
islaus suspended his admirable discourse, and 
Rosa, pensive and thoughtful, seemed to listen 
with earnest attention. 

Yes, it would undoubtedly offend me,” re.- 
plied Raphael, with visible emotion, “ were any 
one to doubt my willingness to sacrifice life, for¬ 
tune and all for our beloved Poland! Yet, permit 
me to say, my lord, that I am responsible to my 
country alone for the course which I deem the best 
Your views are excellent—that I will readily 
allow—but if, in your eagerness to see them ac¬ 
complished, you are led to adopt means which,, 
to me, appear more ‘ likely to draw down still 
deeper ruin on the land we all seek to serve, 
does it not become my sacred duty to oppose 
your designs, even though at the sacrifice of 
your friendship?” 

“ What I then,” cried the Count, “ canyon be 
yet insensible to the weight of the yoke that 
crushes this unhappy land I Are you not yet 
tired of the burden?” 

I shall only be effectually tired of it,'* re¬ 
plied Raphael firmly, “ when all the sons of 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


29 


Poland, groaning beneath their intolerable load, 
shall arise in their might, even as one man, de¬ 
termined to die or to cast it off. Mj lord that 
day is not yet come—suffer me to say so, and 
pardon me if I seek to dispel the illusion which 
will assuredly terminate in your own destruc¬ 
tion and that of your country. Think, I im¬ 
plore you, of what you are about to do! You 
are about to make a trial of strength with three 
formidable powers, who can easily bring against 
you an hundred bayonets to one. In such an 
extremity your sole chance of success is that 
the entire nation, the young and the old, the 
rich and the poor, the noble, the artisan, and 
the serf may rise with one accord and take arms 
to free their country. Then, and not till then, 
can you expect success. Has your lordship any 
such hope ? Have you ever had reason to be¬ 
lieve that at your call the people will simultan¬ 
eously come forth and strike for liberty and 
Poland ? Unfortunately, we can not conceal 
from ourselves that the vast bulk of the com 
mon people keep doggedly aloof from us, be 
cause our cause and theirs 2i.vQ not yet identified. 
Even in those provinces where feudal serfdom 
has ceased to exist, the people see, ay ! feel that 
they are despised by the nobles, and where that 
galling chain still binds them, have we not 
reason to fear that they regard us as their bit 
terest enemies? You will, therefore, be in¬ 
evitably defeated—more excruciating torments 
will be inflicted on this already exhausted coun- 


30 


THE KNOUT, 


try, and worse than all, the prospect of her 
deliverance will be put off to an indefinite 
period. Ah ! Count! there are, and must be, 
safer and surer means to attain our end, and 
would to God that I could impress my convic¬ 
tions on your mind.’^ 

The force and justice of these observations 
could not fail to produce an impression on an 
upright man and a disinterested patriot, such 
as Count Bialewski really was, and when he re¬ 
plied, it was in a grave and melancholy mood: 

“ Perhaps you are right, Ubinski; nor is this 
the first time, when, after our warmest discus¬ 
sions, T inclined to think so. Alas, yes! it is 
too true that our means are sadly dispropor¬ 
tionate, as well to the great end we have in 
view, as to the difficulties which must be en¬ 
countered. But, then, what can we do ? Events 
are urging us forward — our brethren of War¬ 
saw call on us to follow them, and follow them 
we must, were it to certain death.” 

“ And wherefore should we despair of suc¬ 
cess ? ” cried Stanislaus, throwing a contemptu¬ 
ous glance on Raphael, “ must men of birth 
and courage stoop to rely on the gratuitous assis¬ 
tance of their hereditary foes?—does not his¬ 
tory furnish an hundred instances of a few brave 
men confronting with success a mighty army? 
You say that the people, if not against us, are 
but little likely to lend us their aid ! — bah I 
what are the people to me—to us ? Let the no¬ 
bility only stand fast together (that same body 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


31 


which, in our better days, sent forth more than 
an hundred thousand gentlemen to one battle¬ 
field,) and I promise you we shall make short 
work of the Russian hordes. At the present 
moment everything conspires to favour our en¬ 
terprise, and such an opportunity may never 
again return for us. France, by her glorious 
THREE DAYS has given the signal of enfranchise¬ 
ment to the nations who groan in bondage. 
Belgium has followed her example. All the 
north of Europe is in motion, and despotism tot¬ 
ters on its throne. One effort, then—one vigor¬ 
ous effort—seconded, as we doubtless shall be, by 
that gallant France whose bright example beckons 
us on to freedom, and, my life for it, Poland se¬ 
cures for ever her ancient independence! 

“Place no reliance on France, Stanislaus!’’ 
returned the Count, briskly. “She has never 
done anything for us. In the eighteenth cen¬ 
tury she stood coldly by, while Poland was cut 
up and divided like a slaughtered ox, her great 
philosophers at the feet of Catherine and of 
Frederick, applauding all the while the work of 
robbery and spoliation. The republic made fine 
speeches — very fine speeches indeed — on our 
behalf, and Napoleon kindly permitted our 
countrymen to fill the vacancies in his ranks, 
and now, yes now, that selfish, egotistical nation 
would make us the sacrifice for peace. Let us 
then rely on ourselves alone. It is, unhappily, 
tor true that we are disunited, and that, when 
the day of peril comes, many of Poland’s brave 


32 


THE KNOUT, 


and warlike sons will keep sternl} aloof from 
the struggle* But what then, Ubinski ? — how 
else can we meet these mighty obstacles than by 
the desperate courage of despair ? ” 

“ Not so,^^ answered Raphael. “Let us con¬ 
secrate our energies to form a national coalition. 
Let us at once apply ourselves to prove to the 
people that.we have only in view the prosperity 
and the.independence of our country; let us 
convince them that we are disinterested enough 
to give up in their favour our own exclusive 
privileges, and that we shall henceforward 
regard them in very truth as our brethren, 
owing homage and subjection only to the laws, 
to virtue, and to God. Then should Provi¬ 
dence afford us one of those favourable oppor- 
tnnities which it holds in reserve, oh! believe 
me, Count! that the Poles will be all ready, all 
resolved, all devoted to the cause of freedom! 

“ I cannot but approve of a conception so high 
and noble, Ubinski; but how are we to realise 
it?^^ 

Raphael was silent for a moment; he was still 
at that age when the mind, influenced by the 
imagination, conceives and pours forth her 
ideas, without pausing to render them applica¬ 
ble, or even possible. He was, however, about 
to reply, when another individual, older and far 
more experienced, and wdio had hitherto re¬ 
mained an attentive listener, manifested a wish 
to give his opinion. This was the vicar of the 
parish, Count Bialewski’s most confidential 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


33 


friend. He was a man of forty years, or there¬ 
abouts, most unassuming in his manners, and 
exhibiting on his placid features, at once the 
beaming hope of the true Christian, and the 
simple benevolence which marked his character. 

“ I should be unfaithful to my conscience and 
to the duty of my ministry, my dear Count,” he 
began, in a tone of calm decision, were I to 
hesitate in placing before your consideration the 
infallible means of working out the glorious 
end at which you aim. Weak as ye are in point 
of numbers when compared with the power and 
the might of your oppressors, ye have further 
to deplore those unhappy dissensions which 
paralyze all your efforts, and ye begin to feel 
that it is absolutely necessary to unite the entire 
nation in the bonds of fraternal affection. So 
far this is well. But remember, that to induce 
the haughty noble to resign the privileges of his 
order, the rich to share their wealth with the 
poor, or the fastidious citizen to look without 
contempt on the unlettered artisan, there must be 
some fundamental principle common to all, supe¬ 
rior to all opinions and to all systems — a prin¬ 
ciple which, while it imposes certain duties on 
all, holds out to each an unfailing security. You 
will readily admit that such can never be the 
result of any political system, or of any set of 
philosophical notions. All that originates with 
man is tinctured with error, and subject to con¬ 
tradiction. Let us, then, go higher in our 
search for this governing principle, and we must 


34 


THE KNOQT, 


acknowledge that the divine laws alone can 
wield universal dominion. They alone, in tho 
name of an interest superior to all earthly con¬ 
cerns, will teach you to love, to aid, and to raise 
to your own level those whom you have so long 
trampled upon as vassals and slaves, and to 
make of them friends and brothers, that ye may 
all arrive together at the goal of national free¬ 
dom.—After all the progress of modern enlight¬ 
enment, and in despite of all charters, there will 
be still amongst ye rich and poor, high and low, 
strong and feeble, and consequently the leaven 
of discord and of hatred, which religion Oidy 
can extinguish by the inexhaustible streams oi' 
divine charity. Great nations have ever been 
religious I Go, therefore, and seek from that 
celestial source that strength of which ye stand 
in need, that ye may indeed become a free peo¬ 
ple I Ah, my lord! it is not without reason 
that I thus address you. Where now shall we 
look for the fervent faith, and for the lofty vir¬ 
tues of ancient Poland ? Even in our own days 
—within the last twenty years—have ye not out¬ 
raged the divine morality of the gospel, in that 
pure and admirable precept on which is founded 
the union and the love of the domestic circle ? 
‘ Whom God hath joined, let no n^n put asun¬ 
der!’ These are the words of Christ, and yet 
ye have basely accepted the law of divorce, a 
law which outrages nature, and nature’s God. 
Yes! and even when the conscientious cry oi 
the people besought you to repeal that odious 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


35 


enactment, ye disdainfully refused, and your 
legislators were obstinate in maintaining that 
legal proof of your degradation and corruption. 
Alas, alas I it is not by bidding defiance to the 
mandates of God, that a nation can obtain his 
assistance, and we should never forget that he 
has punishment reserved for public, as well as 
individual crimes.'^ 

This lively effusion of apostolic zeal made 
no slight impression on the hearers, who were, 
for the most part, religious men—at least of 
religious principles (as the Poles generally are) 
and well acquainted, moreover, with the saintly 
piety of the speaker. Stanislaus alone suffered 
a satirical smile to wreath his lip, which was, 
however, promptly repressed by a reproving 
look from Rosa. 

May God pardon us our faults, or rather 
our crimes?” ejaculated the Count solemnly, 
“ and may we be permitted to cancel them by 
our blood. That is the only amends we can now 
make, for it is too late to follow your wise ad¬ 
monitions. A fixed resolution has been taken, 
perhaps rashly, (the future will tell)—by many 
thousands of our countrymen in every corner of 
the kingdom. It is not for us to fail them in 
their need, and w^e have only to conquer or die.” 

“So be it!” responded a young man who 
entered the parlor at that moment by a private 
door, used only by members of the family. 

At the sound of his voice each one started 
up, and turned towards him in surprise, not 


36 


THE KNOUT, 


knowing what was to be expected from this 
sudden interruption. 

“It is Casimir—my brother!’' cried Rosa 
joyfully, as she ran towards the stranger. 

“What! can it be my son?” exclaimed the 
Count, as ,he received the young man in his 
arms, and returned his warm embrace. 

“ Oh heavens! he is wounded ! " cried Rosa, 
pale and trembling, as she perceived spots of 
blood on her brother's garments. “ Sit down, 
Casimir, and rest your wearied limbs. I my¬ 
self will wash your wound while they go in 
quest of the doctor." 

“It is nothing, Rosa—nothing, father, I 
assure you, so pray do not trouble yourselves 
about a mere scratch. But the cause of it is 
glorious, and concerns you all. Poland is free! 
Two days since the insuri^ction broke out in 
Warsaw : the Russians have evacuated the city, 
and I have penetrated the enemy’s line to bring 
you these joyous tidings, which must necessarily 
be the signal for a general rising throughout 
all the provinces of the kingdom.’' 

On hearing this announcement, a cry of joy 
was caught from mouth to mouth, and all 
gathered eagerly around the young Bialew- 
ski, each endeavoring to obtain an answer for 
his own inquiry, and all questioning and cross¬ 
questioning without order or consideration. 

“ My good friends," said Casimir, “ before 1 
proceed to satisfy your very natural and very 
laudable curiosity, I think it better to tell you 


A tale: of POLAND. 


37 


-that having been pursued by a detachment of 
cavalry from whom I very narrowly escaped, by 
taking to the woods, 1 have some precautions 
to take so as to prevent a recognition. I must, 
therefore, beg leave to retire in order to make 
the necessary alter^ions on my outward man, 
and also to seek some repose, which you will 
acknowledge that I stand in need of, when you 
consider that for two dap^s I have been scamper¬ 
ing through woods and ravines like a frightened 
hare. Good bye for a while.” 

Rosa took her brother’s arm with tender af¬ 
fection, and they withdrew together. 


CHAPTER III. 

“ Well, said the Count, addressing his friends, 
“ I hope you are now convinced that my fore¬ 
sight was not at fault. The truth is, that 
• notwithstanding our weakness, we have no 
other rule than that of despair. Nothing could 
be worse than the grievous yoke by which we 
are now weighed down, and even though we 
fail in our attempt to sjfiake it off, we have the 
prospect of escaping it by a glorious death. 
For the rest, we have now only to concert the 
most prompt and vigorous measures — all other 
and more abstract discourse would be both 
profitless and unseasonable.’’ 

4 



38 


THE KNOUTi 


“ Oh! as to me,’’ cried Stanislaus, joyously 
rubbing his hands together, “ I care just as 
much for the eloquence of Cicero or Demos¬ 
thenes as I do for the ukases of his Imperial 
Majesty. No! the only sound I wish to hear is 
the roar of musketry and pannon, and all I ask 
is to find myself sword in hand before our 
mighty lords, the Russians, though they num¬ 
bered twenty to our one !” 

“There is every probability that your pa¬ 
triotic wish will be speedily realised,” returned 
the Count, warmly shaking the young man’s 
hand, “ and I think I may safely say that each 
of our friends here present will stand by your 
side on that trying day with all the force he 
can command.” 

As the Count spoke, he fixed his eyes on Ra¬ 
phael, as though the remark were meant to elicit 
his final answer, and Ubinski, without a 
minute’s hesitation, replied in a tone at once 
firm and mournful: 

“ For the last time. Count, let me warn you 
that the liberation of Poland can never be ac¬ 
complished- by a mere effort of despair, be it 
ever so energetic, but it must be the result of a 
long, and ceaseless, and devoted application. 
Since I have unfortunately failed to impress your 
mind with my convictions, I must only treasure 
them in silence, for they may one day become 
available to us should we survive the coming 
time. And now my life and fortune are at my 
country’s service.” 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


39 


“Oh, friends! my worthy friends!” cried 
the Count, raising to Heaven his eyes now filled 
with tears, and radiant with the fire of patriot¬ 
ism, “ so much courage and self-devotion will 
rfot, I firmly hope, go without their reward. 
Souls so noble are not made for slavery. Ah! 
the old are wont to sigh for the past, and to 
attribute the dreadful calamities which have 
fallen upon us, to the degeneracy of the rising 
generation. But for my part, I am proud and 
happy to bear witness that you are right worthy 
of your noble fathers, and your presence, your 
words, and your example, have power to dis 
solve the ice from the soul of age, and restore 
it to its pristine vigor. As a soldier of Kosci¬ 
usko and of Napoleon, I have shared in many a 
brilliant victory, but never have I faced the foe 
with a firmer confidence than I shall as your 
leader, my young and gallant friends !” 

Casimir and Rosa jnst then entered the room, 
and though the Count glanced with legitimate 
pride over the noble face and form of his son, 
yet his gaze rested with melancholy fondness, 
on the mild features of his daughter. Should 
he fall in the approaching struggle .who would, 
or could, protect that dear girl. With the ra¬ 
pidity of lightning that thought impressed 
itself on his mind, saddening the enthusiastic 
devotion of the patriot by the keen sense of 
sacrifice and of separation. 

“ Who would be worthy to receive such a 
trust ? ” he repeated to himself in anguish, and 



40 


THE KNOUT, 


he looked alternately at Stanislaus and Eaphael. 
Whatever might have been his reflections, he 
could not long pursue them amid the noisy 
gratulations w£ich followed the appearance of 
Casimir. The latter was completely metamor- 
phised: having divested himself of all that 
might indicate his profession as an officer in 
the Russo-Polish army, he appeared now' in 
the costume of a civilian, so that with his mus~ 
tachios closely shaven, and his hair cut short 
around his fresh and smiling countenance, he 
might well have passed for an inoffensive 
student. 

“ I crave your pardon, friends all,” said Casi¬ 
mir to his father’s guests, who were well 
known to him, “ for having left you so abruptly, 
but, truth to tell, I was sinking with fatigue, 
and had, moreover, no ambition to die like 
the Greek soldier while announcing my glad 
tidings. If the Kussians had caught me as I 
then was, the chapter would be instantly ended 
for me, whereas we are just now at the opening 
of a great drama in which I have a part to act 
before I die.” '' 

“ I trust you will be safe here, my son,” said 
the Count, with some anxiety in his tone; 
“ nevertheless, until such times as we have 
hoisted the national flag, (which we shall soon 
do,) you must pass for a stranger here ; in fact, 
it would be unsafe to be recognised, seeing that 
we are surrounded by spies. Oh ! is it not joy 
to think that we shall soon breathe more freely ? 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


41 


How happy must you all be in your free War¬ 
saw, my dear Casimir?’’ 

“ Casimir does not choose to tell you, father,” 
interposed Rosa, “ that he has eaten nothing 
to-day yet but a few wild roots picked up in 
the woods, I must, therefore, insist that you will 
lay your commands on him to leave off talking 
until he has partaken of the supoer which has 
already been announced.” 

“ Let us then adjourn to the supper table, 
gentlemen,” said the Count, rising, “ around 
which we may discourse just as freely, for my 
faithful Valentine and his son will be the only 
attendants.” 

The company at once proceeded to an im¬ 
mense hall, decorated with full length portraits 
of the Count's ancestors, intermingled with an¬ 
cient pieces of armour arranged in panoply. 
The Vicar having pronounced , a blessing, they 
each drew closer around the magnificently 
spread table. The meal itself was quietly dis¬ 
patched, for all were anxious to hear the details 
of the late event, and supper once over the 
Count was the first to break silence. 

“This is, perhaps, the last time that we shall 
meet in peaceful guise under my ancient roof- 
tree, and 1 would, my friends, that you may 
hold in pleasurable remembrance the exquisite 
enjoyment of these tranquil moments, when in 
peace and security we listen to the inspiring 
recital of what our brethren have accomplished 
for our suffering, land. May we soon follow 

4^ 



42 


THE KNOUT, 


them to the arena, that together we may wrest 
from the grasp of our oppressors that divine 
liberty, without which man is deprived of his 
rightful dignity. Relate to us then, my sou, 
those heroic deeds which you yourself have wit¬ 
nessed, and may the recital, like the songs of 
Tyrteus, inspire us to combat and subdue.’^ 
“You all know,’'began Casimir, “the cruel 
perplexities under which we have laboured for 
the last six months, that is to say, since the un¬ 
expected revolution of July, in France. If, on 
the one side, the public enthusiasm had in¬ 
creased, the Russian police on the other had 
fearfully increased its severity. Hence it was 
that the chiefs of the national party incessantly 
watched, constantly menaced, and often sur¬ 
prised, knew not how to communicate with each 
other, or to arrange with any degree of cer¬ 
tainty, the execution of their projects. Never¬ 
theless, after displaying the most unprecedented 
address, constancy and devotion, they succeeded 
in determining the mode of attack, and making 
out for each of their adherents the part he was 
to play. Finally, they appointed the evening 
of the 29th November for the- accomplishment 
of their hazardous enterprise. The burning of 
two old buildings, one in the south, near Belvi- 
dere, (the residence of the Grand Duke Con¬ 
stantine,) the other in the west, was the precon¬ 
certed signal of attack on every point of the 
city where the Russians were stationed. The 
Polish regiments then in Warsaw, officers and 


A TALE OF P0L4ND. 


43 


men, were almost to a man engaged in the con¬ 
spiracy. Unfortunately the signal-fires, which 
were to have roused all the people at once, were 
almost a total failure, which necessarily retarded 
our success, as waiting for those fires the people 
were at first misled. However, one of those in¬ 
trepid citizens, who have for many a year daily 
staked their lives in the national cause, Peter 
Wysocki, resolutely presented himself at the 
ensign’s quarters, crying out— Poles, the hour 
of retribution is come: I JVow is the time to 
conquer or die—to arms /” AVhereupon, all the 
students, to the number of one hundred and 
sixty, put themselves in motion and rapidly fol¬ 
lowed Wysocki to the Russian cavalry bar¬ 
racks, not far from there, at the gates of the 
city. A fierce engagement ensued, when ^he 
Russians, deceived by the darkness into the be¬ 
lief that they were attacked by a strong force, 
gave way, and sounded the retreat. About the 
same time another band, consisting of some stu¬ 
dents from the University, had a task to fulfil 
not less perilous or important, being nothing less 
than to suprise the Grand Duke in his palace, 
and make him a prisoner. 

This handful of brave men divided into 'two 
parties, of which one entered by the gardens 
into the palace, while the other gained admis¬ 
sion through the principal entrance, crying out 
“ Death to the tyrant!’/ The Grand Duke was 
then sleeping, but was instantly aroused by a 
valet-de-chamher^ and carried off by a private 


44 


THE KNOUT, 


passage to the apartments of the Grand Duch¬ 
ess. This it was that saved his life, for the 
students having vainly sought him elsewhere 
had the noble delicacy to respect the privacy of 
the apartments of the princess. In the mean¬ 
time the prefect of police, Lubowidski, and the 
Eussian General, Gendre, the Grand Duke’s 
favorite, were both sacrificed to vengeance. 
This tumult speedily attracted the Russian 
troops from Belvedere, and our friends had 
barely time to retire by the little wood of La- 
zienki. They then rejoined Wysocki, whose 
position had become critical in the extreme. 
The Russian cavalry having at length discov¬ 
ered the real number of the assailants, had de¬ 
termined to cut them to pieces, but fortunately 
the diversion made by the conspirators at the 
Belvedere had enabled this whole band to draw 
itself off with little loss, and to seek in the in¬ 
terior of the city those reinforcements which 
they had reason to believe awaited them. Dur¬ 
ing the first attack the Polish troops of the gar¬ 
rison had left their respective barracks, and 
took various positions to keep watcJi on the 
movements of the Russian infantry. At the 
?amo time the people were drawn forth in 
erowds by the protracted discharge of musketry, 
and led on by some young patriots, and a few 
ofiicers, proceeded to the arsenal, chanting the 
hymn, “Poland! thou art not without de¬ 
fenders I” The struggle at that point was some 
what prolonged, but at length the Russians 



, A TALE OF POLAND. 45 

were forced to retire and the arsenal fell into 
the hands of the people. 

This new victory redoubled the popular en¬ 
thusiasm p the Belvedere was speedily taken, and 
the Grand Duke Constantine, followed by his 
guard in disorder, abandoned the palace, and 
was fain to take refuge in a cottage beyoud the 
gates of Warsaw. Having thus made ourselves 
masters of the principal strongholds of the city, 
from that night our triumph was certain. On 
the following day, it is true, the conflict was re¬ 
newed, but the Russians were everywhere 
repulsed—and before sunset, the citizens of 
Warsaw were free. But how can I give you an 
adequate idea of the joy, the acclamations, the 
transports which followed ? It seemed as though 
the entire city made but one great family : peo¬ 
ple accosted each other in the streets, conversed, 
and even embraced, without the slightest pre¬ 
vious acquaintance. Open house was every¬ 
where kept; rich and poor, officers, soldiers, and 
workmen seated themselves at the same table, 
broke bread together, and touched their glasses 
as they drank to Liberty and Poland. In the 
midst of these clamorous festivities the chiefs as¬ 
sembled in council to concert what was next to 
be done, for the Russians were still at our gates 
busied in re-forming their scattered battalions. 
In the course of the day General Blopick ap¬ 
peared amongst us, and accepted the command 
of the army. Without a moment’s delay the 
work of organization commenced; the Polish 


46 


THE KNOUT, 


troops ranged themselves under the national 
banner, and several corps of volunteei’s weya" 
formed. Provisions, clothes, ammunition, and 
money poured in on all sides, and the women of 
all ranks came eagerly forward to place their 
jewels and other ornaments in the public coffers. 
Public enthusiasm knew no bounds, and patri¬ 
otic devotion was at its height; how, then, could 
we augur aught save freedom and prosperity for 
Poland ? ” 

“ I am astonished, my dear Casimir,’’ ex¬ 
claimed Stanislaus, “ that you were able to tear 
yourself from such a festival as that.’’ i 

“ Why, truly, in the midst of such thrilling 
excitement, and in presence of a Russian army 
with whom we burn to engage, I might doubt¬ 
less have forgotten myself; but in the very first 
council of war that was held, it was judged ab¬ 
solutely necessary to propagate the insurrection 
as widely and as speedily as possible. It was 
found indispensable that a very serious diver¬ 
sion should be made, so as to leave us time and 
opportunity to organise our forces, and to offer 
an energetic resistance to an enemy who could, 
in a few days, have command of the most am¬ 
ple resources. It was determined to send emis¬ 
saries without delay into all the Polish pro¬ 
vinces, in order to raise the country in all direc¬ 
tions, and thus menace the retreat of the Rus¬ 
sians. You were too well known, my dear fa¬ 
ther, not to be instantly thought of, and I was 
at once despatched into Lithuania with a com- 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


47 


mission for you, investing you with the com¬ 
mand of all the volunteer corps that may be 
formed in these parts.’’ 

“ It is admirably well,” exclaimed the Count, 
“ for to-morrow all our friends are to assemble 
in a retired spot, under pretext of a grand 
chase, and I trust we shall only separate to take 
up arms at once.” 

“ And how will you dispose of me, father?” 
demanded Rosa with a smile that denoted the 
tranquil firmness of her mind. “ I am really 
a® a loss to know what post you design for me 
in your staff.” 

“ My dear child,” replied the Count, with an 
involuntary sigh, “ I fear we must separate for 
a while, and 1 propose to leave you in Warsaw 
with your aunt, where you can pray for us in 
safety.” 

“ Oh I but not so far from you, dear father! 
With your permission I will remain with the 
rear-guard of your army in order to watch over 
the wounded. Anything less would ill become 
the daughter of an old soldier, and still less a 
Christian.” 

“ Since even our women display such heroic 
courage,” said the Count, as he tenderly em¬ 
braced his daughter, “ what may we notexpect?” 

“ Oh! as to that, my dear Count,” said the 
priest, “ there are many women whose example 
it would be well for men to follow.” 

“ I perfectly agree with you, father,” exclaimed 
Stanislaus throwing an impassioned glance on. 



48 


THE KNOUT, 


Rosa, “ and really that sentiment could not 
be better expressed.” 

Raphael bowed a silent assent. 

“ Well, we shall certainly fight all the better,” 
observed the Count, “ when we know and feel 
that the safety of those we love so well is de¬ 
pending on our success. But, hark! what tu¬ 
mult is this in the castle? Go, Valentine, and 
see what it is.” 

Just as the old man was leaving the room, a 
Russian offiecr appeared on the threshold, and 
behind him some glittering bayonets. He en¬ 
tered the hall, bringing Valentine back by the 
shoulder, and addressed the Count, who had 
stood up to ask the cause of this threatening 
apparition. 

“ I am to suppose that I address Count Bia- 
lewski,” said the officer, stiffly, though politely. 
“ We have been informed, on good authority, 
that your lordship’s son, Captain Bialewski, 
la-tely in the service of His Imperial. Majesty, 
has traitorously deserted his colors, and taken 
refuge in Lithuania, with the most criminal in¬ 
tentions, which it is our duty to frustrate. Con¬ 
sequently, my lord, I have received orders to 
search this castle, as the captain may be rea¬ 
sonably supposed to be somewhere in or about 
it.” 

“ Whatl ” cried the Count, “you tell me my 
son has deserted ?—for what purpose, I should 
like to know?—Surely, there must be some 
strange mistake.” 



A TALB3 OF POLAND. 


49 


“ I have no explanations to offer, my lord, but 
I have o;:*ders to execute, and at once, too, as 
circumstances do not permit delay.’^ 

“ What circumstance do you mean ?” persisted 
the Count, anxious to learn something from the 
rigid officer. Is there anything new going 
forward?^' 

“ I have something else to do than retailing 
news,” muttered the officer, in an impatient 
tone, and with an embarrassed air. And then, 
with a sheet of paper in his hand, he set about 
making his investigation. Confronting in turn 
each of the guests, he compared them with the 
written description which had been sent to him, 
and finding that none present tallied exactly 
with the portrait, he withdrew to extend his 
search through the castle, announcing that if 
unsuccessful he would leave a garrison in the 
house for some days. This occurrence, so en¬ 
tirely unforeseen, had stupified all present, and 
though the Count and his son had preserved an 
admirable composure while the officer was pre¬ 
sent, he was no sooner gone than they acknowl¬ 
edged themselves confounded by the suddenness 
of this fearful blow. Rosa then threw herself, 
pale and trembling, into the arms of her father. 

“ Save him she cried, “ oh, save him I They 
will return—I know they will, and Casimir will 
be lost. Now is the moment to take up arms; 
now is the time to expel the enemy. I am but 
a woman—a weak, trembling woman, but I am 
sure I can wield a weapon in defence of my 

5 


50 ‘ THE KNOUT, 

brother, and mj father’s house. Hitherto I 
have offered up prayers only for my country; 
now I can willingly sacrifice my life in her 
cause. My father, my friends, and you, young 
lords ; let us do something to save my brother!” 
With all her assumed couroge, the tears- 
streamed from her eyes as she spoke, and the 
sight of her grief touched every heart. In a 
moment she was surrounded by a sympathising 
group, all vieing with each other in their assur¬ 
ances of entire devotion to her wishes. 

“ Be not afraid, my child!” said the Count 
soothingly, “ your brother is and will be safe, 
for even in the event of his being discovered, 
we are strong enough to defend him 

“ If you will only permit me. Count,” cried 
Stanislaus eagerly, “ I will undertake, with the 
aid of these noblemen and our united fol¬ 
lowers, to disarm this detachment, and then we 
shall again be our own masters I” 

“ Oh, no,” said the Count, in a decided mam 
ner, “ we must absolutely put off the attack 
till to-morrow. You have here yet another 
proof that God watcher over us.—To-morrow 
the entire population of the district will assem¬ 
ble around the castle, and a thousand arms will 
rise in obedience to a word or a sign. The 
pretended chase will lull to sleep the vigilance 
of the foe, and we shall have them in our power 
before they even suspect our design. And for 
you, my daughter, my dear daughter, summon 
all your courage, and be assured that our first 


A TALE 0P POLAND. 


61 


moment of freedom shall see you conveyed 
* hence to a place of security. As notwithstand¬ 
ing all your fortitude, I well know that you 
could never bear to look for any length of time 
upon the piteous spectacle this place will soon 
present.” 

“ My dear father,” exclaimed Rosa, earnestly, 
“ I should blush to see you trouble yourself at 
sucliXtime on my account. Surely you cannot 
but see that it is not for myself I tremble. 
You have brought me up as a soldier’s daugh¬ 
ter should be, and you are already aware how 
little I am influenced by those imaginary terrors 
which usually enervate the minds of young 
girls. I trust I shall soon learn to restrain the 
expression of that uneasiness and alarm which 
I must nevertheless ever feel where the safety 
of those I love is at stake. But I entreat you, 
do not send me away, for it is then that in the 
dread uncertainty of absence I should be truly 
mi.serable. You are about to rush into a thou¬ 
sand dangers; suffer me then to be near you 
tliat I may endeavor to console you in sorrow 
and in disappointment, and aid you should that 
be required. Besides, all woman as I am, I 
have imbibed so much of your patriotism that 
it will afford me inexpressible pleasure even to 
wait upon my country’s defenders.” 

As she spoke, the sweet-; clear tones of her 
voice, the sparkling beauty of her eyes, and 
her supplicatory attitude, were altogether irre¬ 
sistible. 


52 


THE KNOUT, 


y My clearest child,’’ exclaimed the Count, 
“ we are but too happy to have you with us—‘ 
may Heaven prolong that happiness. You will, 
now retire, Rosa, it is already late, and at dawn 
to-morrow you must be on horseback, for yoY 
have an important part to play in our chase, 
seeing that you must lead on the main body of 
the hunters, whilst we go aside to consult on 
what we are to do. Go, then, and remetnber 
us and our great enterprise when you kneel 
before our God in prayer!” 


CHAPTER lY. 

Having tenderly embraced his daughter, the 
Count looked after her as she left the room, 
with a melancholy and abstracted air. But 
speedily recovering himself he turned calmly 
towards his friends: 

“It is time for us to separate,’’ said lie, 
“ and you may all yield without apprehension 
to the soothing influence of sleep. I am now 
going to give my orders to Valentine, and will 
have it so arranged that this Russian troop 
shall be closely watched, and on the least mani¬ 
festation of danger from them, they shall in¬ 
stantly be put to the sword, as they do not, I 
believe, number more than forty, To-morrow 
will be our grand day, and I hope the last rays 


A TALE, OP POLAN^D. 


53 


of its sun will gild our national banner as it 
proudly floats from the summit of the great 
tower.’’ Then turning to the Priest, he went 
on: “ You will, I am sure, father, offer up the 
holy sacrifice for us before dawn, in the chapel. 
Till then, may God protect us all 1” 

The party then separated, each being desir¬ 
ous of obtaining some repose ere the fatigues 
and dangers of the morrow set in. Eaphael 
alone remained behind, requesting the Count 
to favor him with a few moment s conversation. 

“Most willingly my dear friend,” replied the 
Count, walking back with him towards the fire¬ 
place. “ Speak now—I listen.” 

“ Now that we are on the eve of great events 
which concern us all alike,” said Raphael, in a 
voice which he vainly sought to render steady, 
“ will your lordship permit me to open my mind 
to you ? I have long aspired to the hand of 
your daughter, thoughtfully sensible of my own 
unworthiness of such an honor. Encouraged, 
nevertheless, by your lordship’s unvarying kind¬ 
ness and attention, I now venture to ask whether 
you will or can favor my suit, and permit me to 
speak more freely to the Lady Rosa than I have 
yet dared to do ?” 

“ My dear Ubinski,” exclaimed the Count, 
pressing his hand with paternal affection, “ I 
will not hesitate to tell you that your proposal 
gives me very great satisfaction, and be assured 
that if it be unsuccessful the fault rests not 
with me. Yes! I most sincerely wish that my 

5*. 



54 


THE KNOUT, 


daughter may view the matter as I do, for I 
should assuredly welcome the day that would 
give you to me for a son.” 

“ My dear, lord!” said Eaphael, with un¬ 
feigned delight, “how can I ever prove to you 
how deeply grateful I am for your unmerited 
partiality 

“ I am just going to tell you that, Raphael,” 
rejoined the Count quickly. In anticipation of 
those misfortunes which will inevitably attend 
us in the prosecution of our designs, I have 
already offered up myself and all that I possess 
to the uncertainty of a stormy future. This I 
have judged it my duty to do as a soldier and a 
Christian, yet am I still haunted by one sad 
thought, which, at times, almost unmans me. 
Indifferent as I am to my own fite, I am full of 
anxiety for that of my daughter, since, if I am 
destined to fall, what will become of her ? 
—who will watch over and protect her ?— 
will devote himself to her happiness ?—who, in 
fine, will love her like her old father?—nobler 
yet by her mind than by her birth, lovelier a 
thousand times by her virtues than by the 
charms of her person ? Who can set a proper 
value on my priceless child? Such are the 
questions I have often asked ufyself; and, Ubin- 
ski, notwithstanding the difference between our 
political opinions, I have found but you in all 
the range of my acquaintance, with a heart suffi¬ 
ciently pure and a mind suffiaiently elevated, to 
ensure the happiness of my daughter! You 


A TALE OP POLAND. 55 

may then judge how great is my joy when you 
propose yourself for her acceptance.^’ 

“Ah!” exclaimed Raphael, fervently, “if I 
have no other merit whereon to found my claim, 
I have at least that of a profound sense of Rosass 
inestimable worth, and if I only succeed in win¬ 
ning her affection, I can promise, in all sinceri¬ 
ty, that my whole future life shall be devoted, 
after God, to her happiness. But the main 
point is, my dear Count, can I have any rea¬ 
sonable hope that she will receive me as a 
suitor ?” . 

Here Raphael stopped short—his conversa¬ 
tion with Stanislaus suddenly recurred to him, 
and not even the paternal friendship of the 
Count was able to dispel his fears. 

“To morrow, my dear Ubinski,” said the 
Count after a pause, “ To morrow you shall have 
a decided answer, for after all, the decision 
rests with my daughter. In the meantime, you 
know, you can count on my good offices.” 

Raphael then retired, and he was scarcely 
gone when Casimir entered, and approached his 
father with a somewhat mysterious air. “ I am 
charged,” said he, “ with an embassy which, 
under our present circumstances, may appear 
strange, yet as I Iiave promised to lose no time, 
I mu/^t go through with it at once : in a word, 
father, (for this is no time for idle discourse,) 
my frieild ’Stanislaus, seeks, through me, your 
permission to address my sister.” 

“ Indeed ?” exclaimed the Couijt, more th*an 


56 


THE KNOUT, 


a little embarrassed bj tliis second appl ca¬ 
tion. 

“ It is even so, father! and I neq^l not, I am 
sure remind you that this proposal is not to be 
lightly treated, since Stanislaus is unexception¬ 
able as to family and fortune, and possesses, 
besides, many brilliant qualifications.” 

“ Undoubtedly,” replied the Count, “ but you 
can conceive my perplexity when I tell you that 
Raphael has just this moment preferred a simi¬ 
lar petition.” 

“ Is it possible?” exclaimed Oasirnir, surprised 
as his father had before been. 

“ We have then to make a choice, and the 
necessity is truly a painful one to me. How¬ 
ever, it is not for us to decide—the matter rests, 
of course, with your sister.* In the meantime, 
tell me frankly what is your opinion; laying 
aside all prepossession for either one or thp 
other, and speaking conscientiously, which of 
these young noblemen would be best calculated, 
think you, to ensure the happiness of our dear 
Rosa ?” 

“ As you have put the question so directly, 
my dear father, I must candidly acknowledge 
that notwithstanding the numerous advantages 
enjoyed by Stanislaus, I have more faith in the 
nobler and more stable character of Raphael.” 

“ Ha! now I see that you do indeed desire 
your sister’s happiness,” said the Count as he 
embraced his son^ “and your opinion is pre- 
cis'ely mine.” 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


57 


“And yet, father, when Stanislaus constituted 
me his envoy, and while giving me my instruc¬ 
tions, he gave me to understand, by all sorts of 
round-about ways, that he has some reason to 
believe himself tolerably sure, as far as my sister 
is concerned, so that it is only your consent he 
believes wanting to make all right.” 

“ Ha I the case begins to wear a graver as¬ 
pect,”* said the: Count, in a pensive tone. 
“ However, we shall see how it is. I shall go 
and talk with Eosa on the subject, and I know 
she will not deceive me. As to yourself, Casi- 
mir, you will await me in my sleeping apart¬ 
ment, where there is a bed prepared for you 
for to-night. Valentine and his son will keep 
guard on the door, and as all our people are 
warned to be on the alert, we can have them 
around us on the slightest appearance of danger. 
—These precautions were all necessary, I can 
assure you; for treachery is around us under 
one form or another.—Go, then, and await my 
coming, but be prudent and watchful, I conjure 
you, for we know these Russians too well to 
doubt that there is a price, ay ! and a golden 
one, fixed on your head.” 

Count Bialewski traversed with a slow step 
the corridor which led to the apartments of his 
daughter, reflecting, as he went, on the two 
proposals he had so lately received, and asked 
himself what objection could he seriously pro- 
pase in the event of Rosa’s declaring in favor 
of Stanislaus. He had long since remarked the 


58 


THE KNOUT, 


particular attentions of these two yoUn<^ inen 
and had made the character.of each his peculiar 
study. This investigation was anything but 
favorable to Stanislaus, who, with all his striking 
advantages of face, and form, and manner, ap¬ 
peared to the Count to have a certain flexibility 
of mind and lightness of principle which might 
seriously compromise the happiness of his 
daughter. In Raphael, on the conti^ary, he had 
early discovered a high and noble mind, to¬ 
gether with the most unbending sense of recti¬ 
tude as displayed in all his actions. RaphacFs 
whole soul seemed wrapped up in the loveliness 
of virtue, and likely to make any sacrifico 
rather than tarnish that bright ideal. But yet, 
if Rosa was no longer free to choose, what was 
tp be done? Must he suppress the yearning 
tenderness of his heart, and exact from her a 
rigid submission to the calculating views of 
age ? And, moreover, Stanislaus, with all his 
failings, was not without numerous virtues, and 
was there not every reason to hope that even 
those faults and foibles would disappear in 
time before the bright example of Rosa ? It 
might well be, and yet the Count could not 
think, without a sigh, on even the probability 
of such a union. 

Full of doubt and anxiety he knocked at 
Rosa’s door and was instantly admitted. She 
had not yet gone to bed, and was kneeling be¬ 
fore a crucifix, engaged in her evening devo¬ 
tions. The Count made a sign that she should 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


59 


not disturb herself, and taking his place in front 
of the fire-place, he continued to reflect on what 
he should say to Rosa. Let us then profit by 
thi-s opportunity, in order to survey the apart¬ 
ment, which was of ordinary dimensions, and 
might be considered as Rosa’s boudoir or work¬ 
room. Everything around bore testimony to 
the taste and refinement of the presiding genius. 
The compartments of the carved oak wainscot¬ 
ing were adorned with drawing and painting, in 
which were easily discernible the peculiar genius 
of - Rosa. A piano stood open at the further 
end of the room, and on it lay some of the best 
compositions of Beethoven and Rossini. A 
large glass case set in between the two wdndows 
contained the library, consisting for the most 
part of the great French literature of the seven¬ 
teenth century, together with a crowd of names 
ending in ski^ and well known beyond the Vis¬ 
tula. On either side of the fire-place was ranged 
flower-vases containing plants of various kinds 
in full-blossom, which, at that inclement season, 
spoke volumes for the attentive care bestowed 
upon them. It was a scene wherein the ele¬ 
gance and luxury of a lordly dwelling w^ere 
mingled Avith the simplicity which Rosa best 
loved, and perhaps the greatest charm of the 
apartment was the perfect neatness and good or¬ 
der everywhere visible.—It was there that Rosa, 
as mistress of the mansion, was wont to receive 
her lady visitors. And now, in order to com¬ 
plete the pictrre, we have but to glance at Rosa 


60 


THE KNOUT; 


herself. She was, as we have elsewhere sa:(l, 
somewhere about twenty ; her figure was tall and 
slender in its proportions; her features regular 
and well-formed, but chiefly remarkable for the 
serene and noble expression by which they were 
animated. Indeed, the whole contour of the 
face, shaded by soft bands of fair hair, and with 
its deep blue eyes, was singularly soft and femi¬ 
nine, yet they would assuredly have been mis¬ 
taken who would thence infer that Rosa’s mind 
was such as generally accompanies such a con¬ 
formation. Physiologists and romancers may 
say as they wall, but it is nevertheless true that 
though to all appearance Rosa was gentle and 
even fragile, yet education had made her both 
courageous and firm. She had been so unfortu¬ 
nate as to lose her mother while yet in the first 
years of life ; but the loss had. been amply com¬ 
pensated by the devoted affection of her father, 
who had early learned to look upon her as his 
greatest earthly consolation. He had made her 
from her very infancy, the object of unceasing 
vigilance, and of the tenderest care, and not 
even in those years when he had served in the 
Polish and in the French armies, did he for a 
moment forget his daughter, or entrust her to 
mercenary attendants. At a later period when, 
after the fall of Napoleon7the generosity of the 
Czar Alexander had permitted Poland to breathe 
more freely, and her children to live again in , 
comparative tranquility, the Count retired to 
his estates, and devoted himself more exclusively 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


61 


to the education of liis jiaughter. In this, his 
favorite eraployment, he'"had been latterly ably 
assisted by the Abbe Choradzo, a man whose 
talents and acquirements were only exceeded by 
his fervent piety. 

It was no way surprising that the mind of 
Rosa should have been even strongly influenced 
by the military life which she had shared with 
her father, and hence it was that while tenderly 
alive to the wants and sufferings of others, she 
could look on the most pitiable scene, and 
with her own hands give relief to the sufferer, 
and yet preserve an almost stoical coolness. 
Neither darkness, nor solitude, nor the din of 
battle, could disturb the firmness of her soul. 
She had been her father’s companion in many a 
toilsome journey, and was wont to keep close 
by his side, smiling and calm, though mounted 
on a fiery charger. She associated herself in 
all her father’s patriotic views, and this not only 
by her prayers and good wishes, but also by that 
active sympathy which follows events with eager 
interest, mourning for the disappointment and 
rejoicing in the probability of success, leaving" 
nothing undone for the furtherance of the cause 
that might beseem a modest and a high-souled 
woman. Yet were all these lofty aspirations 
bent down and regulated by the strong and tute¬ 
lary law of religious duty, and Rosa was all the 
more ardently devoted to the sublime faith of 
her fathers, for that the Russian clergy and the 
iSussian government had made, and were making, 



6 ^ 


THE KNOUT, 


every efiort to calumniate and defame it Such, 
then, was Rosa, and who can wonder that she 
was the darling of her father’s heart, or be sur¬ 
prised at the rivalry of Stanislaus and Raphael? 

Rosa was praying, as we have observed, when 
her father entered, but she very soon arose and 
approached him. 

“You have something to say to me, I per¬ 
ceive, my dear father,” she ^said. “ Tell me, is 
Casimir safe ?” 

“ Oh, have no fear on that head, my child; 
your brother is beyond danger. The business 
of which I would speak to you, though grave 
enough, it is true, yet concerns yourself first of 
all,” 

“ Concerns me, father!—how—what do you 
mean ?” 

“ Yes, just yourself! and in order to save you 
any unnecessary suspense, I shall at once come 
to the fact, or rather facts. You are already 
aware that it was not my intention to bestow 
you in marriage until jt)u had attained the age 
of twenty-one. We have often conversed on 
•this subject, and with tlie less pain that we had 
always agreed that your marriage would in no 
case separate us, and would give me but a son 
the more to love. Now there is a migiity 
struggle at hand, in which I must necessarily 
run some risk, and my mind would be com¬ 
paratively easy and free from care had I but 
the assurance that I had secured for you a pro¬ 
tector on whose honor and affection I could 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


63 


fully rely. Be not surprised, therefore, that I 
now introduce the subject, and I will add that 
it would give i^e a very sensible pleasure if we 
could now decide on him who is to be the future 
protector of my Eosa;—besides, I have two 
proposals to submit to you, which require, of 
course, an immediate decision as far as they are 
concerned. 

‘‘Proposals!’’ repeated Eosa, with a smile 
and a blush. 

“ Even so,” replied the Count, “ and it is pre¬ 
cisely those same proposals which embarrass me 
more than a little. But, after all, as it is for 
you, and not me to decide on their respective 
merits, I hope to get through the difficulty with 
your aid. Two young noblemen, of distin¬ 
guished rank, have proposed for your hand— 
you know them, and have known tliem long—it 
is' Eaphael and Stanislaus. So now, what 
think you ?” 

“And you, my father,” stammered Eosa, 
“ what is your opinion ?” 

“I, my child!” returned the Count, “I have 
nothing to say but this, that my sole desire is 
to see you happy, and to know how best that 
happiness may be secured.” 

“ It is—it really is, most perplexing,” said 
Eosa, musingly. • 

“ Indeed !” exclaimed the Count. 

“ But yet-’■ 

“ Hear me, Eosa,” interrupted her father, “ I 
am fully aware that the matter requires mature 



64 


THE KNOUT, 


consideration, and would, therefore, advise you 
to postpone your answer till to-morrow. I 
should, however, remind you that you are not 
called upon to enter into any sort of engage¬ 
ment, and the question only is to decide between 
two rival candidates. I should imagine that it 
is not so very difficult. Only decide—and if 
you do accept either of these noblemen, you 
shall have as long time as you may desire before 
the irrevocable vow is made. Good night, 
then, my dear child, I shall now leave you to 
your reflections.’’ 

“ No, father, no—do not leave me yet!” ex¬ 
claimed Rosa, in visible confusion. “ You 
know I never wilfully conceal any thing from 
you, and now, if I am indeed called upon to 
make a choice so unexpectedly, you will not re¬ 
fuse me the benefit of your counsel?” 

“ I am only too happy, my dear Rosa, in the 
consciousness of possessing your confidence,” 
replied the Count, embracing his daughter as 
he spoke, “ and if my advice can indeed aid 
you in this momentous affair, it will be freely 
and sincerely given. I must confess that I am 
really anxious to know whether either of my 
young friends, or which of them, has obtained 
a place in your heart, for on this information 
depends, in a great measure, my present and 
future peace of mind. Speak, then, my daugh¬ 
ter, and fearlessly open your heart to your 
father.” 

“ Alas ! my father I you are then about to see 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


65 


a poor, weak heart exposed I’' murmured Rosa, 
and she hid her face in her father’s bosom. 


CHAPTER Y. 

“ I AM quite sure, Rosa,” replied the Count, 
“ that you have nothing to reveal which can 
alter my opinion of your rectitude and purity 
of heart.” 

“ Spoken like the kindest and most indulgent 
of fathers,” murmured Rosa, “ but you shall see. 
In the first place, then, my dear father, it is 
long since I perceived the rival assiduities of 
these noblemen, and as far as Stanislaus is con¬ 
cerned, I must acknowledge, to my shame, that 
I have but too often given him room to believe 
that his attentions were very pleasing to me. 
Stanislaus is, as you know, full of life and 
spirits, and has, moreover, an extraordinary 
talent for drawing one into those conversations 
which; although trifling and light in their na¬ 
ture, are apt to excite the imagination, and 
when managed by one so adroit and skilful as 
Stanislaus, may be easily made to serve his 
purpose, giving to others the impression that 
two young people who laugh and chat away so 
merrily together, must have a good understand¬ 
ing between them. Then, on the other hand, 
Stanislaus has no equal in those nameless atten- 




66 


THE KNOUT, 


tions which are generally supposed to be all- 
powerful with our sex, and I cannot, and may 
not, deny that he has made himself exceedingly 
agreeable to me, and—and—may even have ac¬ 
quired a certain influence over my mind, so 
that--'’ 

Here Rosa made a dead pause,—hen cheeks 
were dyed with a crimson blush, and she evi¬ 
dently knew not how to finish the sentence. 

» —So that," said the Count, with a smile, 
catching up the unfinished sentence, “ you have, 
on the whole, shown a pretty strong preference 
for Stanislaus, and are disposed to favor his 
wishes ?" 

“No, no, no, father!—no such thing, believe 
me !" cried Rosa, with surprising quickness and 
vivacity. 

“ Then what am I to think, dear Rosa! after 
what you have just said ?" 

“Nay,hear me to the end, father, before you 
form your judgment—I wish to show myself as 
I really am, so that you can the better give me 
your advice when you have heard all. At the 
same time that Stanislaus was paying med:hose 
dangerous assiduities, I could not avoid seeing 
the respectful attention of Ubinski, and I can 
truly say that I early became convinced of the 
immense dilference between the two: the one 
was, to be sure, witty, gay and satirical; but 
the other was noble, and serious, and benevo¬ 
lent. Raphael, it is true, never soared aloft, as 
Stanislaus often did, on the wing of enthusiasm. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


67 


but when called forth by circumstances, he in¬ 
variably proved himself far removed from all 
narrow and selfish prejudices, and in fact as 
possessing one of those lofty minds which truly 
ennoble our kind. Hence it was that in his 
presence I often reproached myself for giving 
way to those frivolous amusements, and blushed 
as I thought of how he must regard them. At 
such moments Stanislaus fell immeasurably in 
my estimation, and, in short, I could never say 
of him what I have ever thought of—of—the 
other. Ah! father! with what entire confi¬ 
dence can a woman lean on the arm of one like 
Raphael, and how natural it is for her to love 
one so every way noble—one of whose virtues 
she has so much reason to be proud!—^Such, 
then, is my opinion of these young noblemen, 
and now, my dear father, you can decide for me 
—at least, I hope so.^^ 

“ Then my opinion is, that you have only suf¬ 
fered Stanislaus to catch hold of your imagina¬ 
tion, while Raphael has reached your heart, and 
most worthy he is of any woman's love.” 

“ I am truly rejoiced to hear you say so !” 
Rosa exclaimed, with artless fervor. 

“ And why not decide at once in Raphael's 
favor ?” 

“All! I was afraid that 1 could never be 
worthy of him,” said Rosa, in a subdued voice, 
“ and I feared, besides, that I had, although 
unintentionally, given Stanislaus too much en¬ 
couragement to draw myself out with fitting 
grace.” 


68 


THE KNOUT, 


“Have you given him any sort of promise?’^ 

“ Never—never, father! nor any tiling that 
even he could interpret as such. No, the only 
thing wherewith I have to reproach myself is 
the not having shunned those occasions which 
brought us in close conne,ji;ion with each ,other, 
particularly as my indiscretion in those matters 
may seem to denote a preference which I never 
really or seriously felt. The truth is that the 
exquisite charms of his manner and conversa¬ 
tion have at times induced me to pay him too 
much attention—more than he deserved. Yet 
I solemnly repeat to you that I have never re¬ 
garded him with that admiration—that—that 
deep feeling with which I have long looked 
upon his rival.-’ 

“ My dear child,” said the Count, with affec¬ 
tionate gravity, “ you must neither be surprised 
nor afflicted by those apparent contradictions 
which seemed to have troubled you more than 
enough. They are in perfect accordance with 
our poor, weak nature, seeing that we cannot 
help being dazzled and attracted, it may even 
be by a brilliant and specious exterior ; but the 
rational and thinking mind easily discerns the 
real character beneath all its glittering and 
meretricious ornaments, and despising the hol¬ 
low cheat, it turns with intuitive respect and 
admiration to where it discovers true merit and 
unostentatious nobleness. And I must say, 
Rosa, that you have thus shown considerable 
penetration. Stanislaus is, beyond all doubt, 
brilliant and accomplished, but is far too much 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


69 


devoted to pleasure ever to become a great 
man;—he is, indeed, one of those who entirely 
depend on chance, and may turn to good oT 
evil, just as circumstances happen. Raphael, on 
the contrary, will on every possible occasion, 
prove himself both high-minded and upright— 
and will be sure to be one day a distinguished 
man. For my part, though our political opin¬ 
ions are entirely different, I would have no 
hesitation in confiding to him my dearest earthly 
treasure—am I then to understand that you au¬ 
thorise me to give him a favorable answer ?” 

“You know we are not to be separated, fa¬ 
ther !” cried Rosa, as she threw herself on his 
neck, giving no more direct answer to his 
question. 

“Oh! that is understood!” returned the 
Count, with a gratified smile. “And now, my 
sweet child, farewell till to-morrow.” 

Whilst the Count seeks his own chamber, 
after having ascertained that all necessary pre¬ 
cautions had been taken against a surprise from 
the Russians, let us penetrate, for a moment, to 
that of Stanislaus. Reclining on a sofa, with 
his feet extended in front of a bright fire, he 
was carelessly glancing over some papers which 
Firley, his stewajd, had presented for his in¬ 
spection. This Firley was apparently between 
forty and fifty years of-age, in stature but little 
above the middle size, with a florid and rather 
jocund countenance, and a pair of quick and 
iM3stless eyes, whose habitual expression was 
that of sly cunning. 



70 


THE KNOUT, 


‘‘ Firley,’^ said Stanislaus, with a yawn, as 
he put away the last of the documents, “ can 
you tell me why I have entrusted to you the 
management of my affairs 

“Why, my lord! it was, I suppose, in order 
to get rid of a host of troublesome details which 
would be entirely unworthy the notice of a no¬ 
bleman of your rank.” 

“ You speak like a book, my good fellow— 
but why, then, do you bore me to death with 
these wretched scrawls of petitions and bills, 
and the Lord knows what? Surely I have 
other things to attend to, and you know it.’^ 

“ Yes, but, my lord will please to remember 
that the first document which I have had the 
honor to place in your hands, urgently insists 
that your lordship may take cognizance of the 
dispute. It is nothing less than a formal com¬ 
plaint of a certain horsewhipping administered 
to some of these heathens who actually denied 
their just debts, and stoutly refused their lawful 
amount of labor. But, perhaps I was wrong in 
forcing the wretches to do their duty.” 

“ Hold now, Firley I have I not already told 
you that I would prefer seeing you treat these 
people less harshly ? Using the whip is apt to 
irritate them, and its application is truly re¬ 
volting.’^ 

“ And yet, my lord, you must have your cof¬ 
fers well filled—you must have your equipage, 
your' horses, your dogs, all in a style and 
a quality worthy of your noble name. Well, 
now, I declare to you, that if you want to set 


A TALE OF POLAND. 71 


up for a philanthropist, you will be presently 
as poor as Job himself.” 

“ Well, Firley, I leave it all to yourself, 
seeing that you are my providence; and, after 
all, what are these serfs made for but to serve 
their lords ? So, now, let us speak of something 
else. I have at length made that great attempt 
—to-day I have proposed for the Lady Rosa, 
and have every reason to hope that I shall be 
accepted. So you see, Firley, we have to raise 
funds for the wedding, and a magnificent one 
it must needs be. Let me have no more of 
3^our tiresome lectures on the insufficiency of 
my revenue, in anticipation of which you have, 
as I well know, grievously oppressed my vassals. 
For yourself, my worthy ex-Attorney, you are 
far too clever to be much embarrassed by such 
a trifling difficulty as this. You can cut down 
certain woods, or even, if necessary, dispose of 
a farm or two, as the fortune of my intended 
bride will more than repair the breach. And 
then for the future, you know, marriage will 
bring order and economy, and all such virtues. 
But what the deuce makes you look so gloomy, 
Firley, for all the world as though I had been 
speaking of a funeral. What have you got to 
say ?” 

“ Alas I my lord ; you cannot but know that 
in my sincere devotion to your, lordship^s inter¬ 
est, I have many reasons to dread this marriage. 
First of all is, the suspicion with which the 
Count is looked upon by the government—” 



72 


THE KNOUT, 


‘‘But, Birley, you know my political opin 
ions.” 

“ Yes, my lord, I know them, and while I 
admire their nobleness, cannot help deploring 
that such opinions should be yours. The truth 
is, that a man of business, accustomed to prac¬ 
tice the art of calculation, views this matter in 
a far different light, and can see no feasible 
chance of success in a game which stands .one to 
ten. The rebellion will be speedily crushed, 
and, what is worse, your lordship will be ruined^ 
Alas! I can even foresee the sequestration of 
your estates, and my honored master forced to 
seek a precarious living in a foreign land.” 

“ The perspective is not very inviting, I 
grant you,” replied Stanislaus, with a somewhat 
melancholy smile, “ but fortunately it is only 
imaginary. Fear is apt to exaggerate danger, 
and as to me, I know not what fear is. Not¬ 
withstanding all the obstacles which stand in 
our way, I do hope for a brilliant victory, and 
then, Firley, my friend, only think of the splen¬ 
did reward which awaits us !” 

“Yes, a splendid reward, truly; but, unfor¬ 
tunately, it will be for the people, who will at 
once declare themselves on a level with the no¬ 
bility, and pull down all your hereditary privi¬ 
leges. 

“ Why, Firley*, that is sheer absurdity,” cried 
the haughty noble ; “ think you wo shall be so 
foolish as to permit them ?” 

“ My Lord,” returned Firley, with the utmost 
coolness “ when once you have torn away the 


A TALE OF POLAND. 73 

dyke, it is folly to attempt to restrain the tor 
rent.'^ 

“In short, Firley,” cried Stanislaus, with the 
impatience of a man who relishes against his 
own will the reasoning of his adversary, “ in 
short, my resolution is fixed, and I am sure you 
would not be the man to advise me to change 
it.” 

“ Most certainly, I shall advise my master to 
nothing that might compromise his honor; nev¬ 
ertheless, it is hard for any one so entirely devo¬ 
ted to him as I am, to see him enter upon the 
road to destruction, without at least warning 
him of his danger. Could you not at least post¬ 
pone your marriage ? Only think, my noble 
lord, what a time it is for you to declare your¬ 
self. In the first place, the castle is almost in 
a state of siege—the Count^s son is accused of 
high treason—they are on his trail, and the 
Russian soldiers are confident that before sun¬ 
set to-morrow they will have him sure. Yet 
this is the moment your lordship is pleased to 
choose for allying yourself with this unfortunate 
family.” 

“ Firley, my good fellow, you know not 
what it is to be the slave of a beautiful 
girl; therefore, I can excuse your cold calcu¬ 
lations. But are you sure that these Russians 
have traced Casimir ?” 

“ They justly suppose that he cannot be far 
from here.” 

“ They may not be much mistaken, Firley. 


74 


THE KNOUT, 


—nay, I may as well tell you that Casimir 
is in the castle, and safe from danger. But 
you must employ all your address to persuade 
them that he is gone towards Grodno for the 
purpose of raising the people, and is thence 
to proceed to Wilna, in order to organise the 
revolution there. This hint, carefully spread 
amongst them, will soon rid us of our trouble¬ 
some visitors, who have the assurance to talk 
of remaining here in garrison, though we are 
sufficiently strong to disarm them at the first 
alarm. So now )-ou know what I expect of 
you, and I will reckon on your doing your 
duty 

“ My lord, I will do anything that is agreea¬ 
ble to you. So God bless your lordship.” 

“ Good night, Firley.” So away went the 
honest Firley, and the first thing he did, after 
leaving his master, was to write a note, in 
a disguised hand, and with numerous ortho¬ 
graphical errors (wilful, of course,) as though 
it came from a servant, and addressed to the 
officer in command of the Russian detachment. 
The note was left unsealed, and ran as fol¬ 
lows :— 

“ The wretch of whom you are in pursuit is 
still in the castle. I warn you, however, that 
your party is not strong enough to arrest him. 
So you must immediately procure a larger 
force. This comes from 

A Friend. 

This will at once show what sort of a man 



75 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


lurlej was. But how had he obtained so 
much influence over a man of honor, as Stanis¬ 
laus really was? The enigma is easy of 
solution: Stanislaus, given up heart and soul 
to the pursuit of pleasure, had the greatest 
aversion to anything like business. Firley, 
who had served his full time to an attorney 
famous only for his dishonesty, was himself 
highly accomplished in all the arts of roguery. 
He had for some time practised the law on his 
own account, when circumstances having intro¬ 
duced him to Stanislaus, he had quickly con¬ 
trived to make himself useful, nay, indispen¬ 
sable to tlie thoughtless young nobleman. 
After a little while he became his master’s chief 
confidant, and faithful servant that he was! 
availed himself of that trust to enrich himself, 
by communicating what was worth anything, 
to the government; but whether he had still 
some lingering scruples, or through gratitude 
for the rich hordes he was daily accumulating, 
or that he wished to retain his hold of the 
prey, it is certain that he made it a point to 
excuse his lord to the government for the 
crimes wherewith he himself accused him, 
giving as a reason, that he had strong hopes 
of his conversion from the cause of rebellion. 
It will, therefore, be easily understood that the 
worthy steward had every thing to fear from 
the proposed marriage, and he secretly vowed 
to raise such obstacles that it never could come 
to pass. 



76 


THE KNOUT, 


We shall leave this personage for the present, 
but ere we drop the curtain for the night on the 
guests and inhabitants of the castle, let us 
glance at a letter written by Raphael to his 
grandmother (his only near relation) after his 
private interview with the Count: 

“JRy Dear MotheT *,—You know how anxious 
and. how irresolute I was when I quitted you, 
and you cannot but remember those long con¬ 
versations in which we discussed the chances for 
and against my success with the Lady Rosa. You 
kindly exhorted me, at my departure, not to de¬ 
spair, giving many reasons, which then appeared 
to me excellent. Yet I was sad at heart, and 
so fearful, that I postponed the crisis as long as 
I possibly could. But I had promised you to 
bring bagk a decisive answer, and I determined 
to know the worst or the best at once. When 
on my way hither, and not far from the castle, I 
encountered Stanislaus Dewello, and an expla¬ 
nation followed, which had at first decided me 
to return home. Stanislaus assured me in the 
most explicit terms that he was all but sure of 
the Lady Rosa, and urged me, therefore, to with¬ 
draw my pretensions. Had this request been 
less arrogantly made, after hearing what I had 
heard, I should certainly have yielded; but 
Stanislaus spoke so haughtily, and even con¬ 
temptuously, that I must own the spirit of oppo¬ 
sition was strengthened wfithin me, and I re¬ 
solved to go on and make my proposal to the 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


77 


Count as soon as an opportunity offered. I was 
welcomed by that nobleman (as you had pre¬ 
dicted) in the most paternal manner; but his 
daughter—what am I to expect from her ? Were 
I less acquainted with her peculiar turn of mind, 
I might the more easily believe that slie liad 
been attracted by the rare perfections of Stan¬ 
islaus, who sings with so much taste, dances be¬ 
yond all competition, and has indeed all those 
graceful accomplishments which might win a 
maiden’s love. But if my estimate of Rosa’s 
character be correct (and your opinion agrees 
with mine,) her mind is of a serious caste, and 
her heart is as pure as it is good and tender. 
Her views are high and noble, and I am almost 
sure that she mingles in the frivolous amuse¬ 
ments of Jier age and of her circle with secret 
contempt. Often have I observed her steal 
away from a gay assembly to fulfil some duty of 
religion or charity, and I believe her a Christian 
in the fullest acceptation of the word.—Do you, 
then, think it possible, my mother, that God 
will ever give up such a woman to the^ control 
of a spendthrift and a coxcomb ? For my part, 
I cannot believe it; and notwithstanding my 
unworthiness of such a blessing, there are mo- 
Ineuts when, after having considered the purity 
of my intentions, and my entire devotion to her 
happiness, I cannot help fancying that all is not 
yet lost, and that I may be, after all, nearer the 
goal than my gay rival. But this train of tiiought 
is soon dispelled, as I recall tlic strange contra- 


THE KNOUT, 


73 

dictions and caprices to wliicli we are all more 
or less subject, and then I reluctantly confess 
that with all the immense difference between 
Rosa and Stanislaus, they may yet be destined 
for each other. Should such be the case, pity 
me, my dear mother, but do not grieve for my 
disappointment for it will necessarily be the will 
of God, and as such, I must endeavour to bear 
it as cheerfully as I can. As a Christian, I am 
convinced that happiness here below is not for 
us: we are here to work out our salvation, and 
to gain the heavenly inheritance; our life is, 
therefore, one of ceaseless warfare, as otherwise 
we cannot obtain the prize, and God in his great 
mercy knowing that this fearful struggle is re¬ 
pugnant to our nature, is pleased to urge us on 
by his divine grace. If I am to lose Rosa, the 
loss will certainly be a grievous trial, but I 
shall offer it up to God, as a sacrifice of great 
price. And then I constantly repeat to myself i 
that if I am thus deprived of what I fondly con¬ 
sider would bring happiness to me, I can at least 
devote myself to promote that of others—yours, 
in the first place, my ever dear mother, and that 
of all wdthin my reach. And then, by an ad¬ 
mirable arrangement of Providence, do we not 
become happy ourselves in resigning our will to^ 
the will of God, and in performing our duty ? 
Is there, in fact,, any felicity to be compared 
vntli that of a good conscience and a will per¬ 
fectly resigned ? Let poets exaggerate as they 
may the tortures of disappointed love, but it is 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


79 - 


iievertlieless certain that poor human nature is as 
inconstant in its griefs as in its joys—one day it 
loves, or grievQs ; the next it forgets both love 
and grief, and time sweeps away, with more or 
less rapidity, all our vain, earttborn feelings. 
Our affections only acquire strength and sta¬ 
bility when we give them wholly to God. I 
shall now leave off, my dearest mother, in order 
to seek repose, if it is to be found, but I shall 
not close my letter till I have received my an¬ 
swer from your old friend, the Count.” 

It was late when Raphael threw himself on 
his bed, and he was only awoke next morning 
by a light tapping at his chamber door. 

“Who is there?” he asked, as he hastily 
donned his garments. The answer was “ Count 
Biale wski.” 


80 


THE KNOUT, 


CHAPTER VI. 

Recognizing at once the voice of the Count, 
Raphael opened the door and stood pale and 
motionless before him. 

“ What is the matter, Raphael ? asked the 
Count in a cheerful voice, “ Is it not your father 
who comes to shake hands with you this morn- 
ii-g ? 

“ Can it be possible I ” cried the young man, 
as he threw himself into the arms of the Count. 

‘‘ Yes, very possible I ” rejoined the latter, 
and he pressed Raphael to his heart. “ My 
daughter has confessed to me that you hold 
the very highest place in her esteem, and 
.in fact, receives your proposal as graciously 
as even you could desire.” 

“ Oh ! it is too much—it is too much I ” re¬ 
peated Raphael, again and again, unable to give 
expression to the joy of his heart. 

“ Pardon me, my young friend, it is not 
enough, for you must instantly appear on the 
field in front of the enemy. In a word, I want 
to present you to Rosa as my son and her affi¬ 
anced husband.” 

“ Oh! let us go at once—I am ready.” 

“ Wait a moment, my dear fellow! had you 
not better complete your toilet 1 There, son, let 
me assist you, for I see you are by far too much 
agitated.”—And the Count smiled at the youth- 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


81 


fnl eagerness of his friend. “An old ofiScer 
like myself, you know, is so accustomed to in¬ 
spect the appearance of his men before he leads 
them to the charge, that the habit becomes, as 
it were, instinctive.'^ 

Raphael, however, was soon ready, and fol¬ 
lowed the Count with a hurried step. In the 
meantime Rosa was not less agitated; her father 
had announced Raphael’s visit, and however 
great might have been her pleasure, her embar¬ 
rassment was truly painful. She took a book 
and sat down near the fire; then rising sudden¬ 
ly, she glanced at her reflection in an opposite 
mirror, to see that her dress was properly ar¬ 
ranged : then, approaching a window, she stood 
gazing listlessly out for some minutes—going 
to the door, she listened, and hearing distant 
footsteps in the corridor, she threw herself 
again upon her seat, blushing and breathless. 
At length, when her father entered with Ra¬ 
phael, she had scarcely strength to rise and ad¬ 
vance to meet them. 

“My dear child,” said the Count archly, as he 
kissed his daugliter’s fair brow, “ I have brought 
hither my son Raphael, who, as such, is to be ad¬ 
mitted to a high position in your affections, is he 
not ? ” 

“Will Rosa deign to receive me with favour? ” 
added Raphael, with a touching expression of 
respectful tenderness in his dark, thoughtful 
eyes. “ And y^ I know not how I can prove 



82 


THE KNOUTj 


“ Oh, my lord ! ” returned Rosa quickly, ‘ you 
are pleased to underrate your own merits, but I 
am not the less aware of their excellence, and— 
and —y She paused, in evident embarrassment, 
fearful that she had said too much. 

“ Sweet Rosa,” cried Raphael, in unqualified 
delight, “ what earthly sacrifice would I deem 
too great to testify my gratitude for your almost 
unhoped-for kindness! ” and taking her unre- 
luctant hand he raised it respectfully to his 
lips. 

“ And now, my children,” said the Count 
earnestly, “ you will promise me that from this 
day forward you will be true and faithful to 
each other; and I know you both well enough 
to be convinced that the promise will be faith¬ 
fully kept. For myself, it will enable me to 
brave all the chances of war without apprehen¬ 
sion, so that I can devote myself as I would 
wish to the service of my unfortunate coun¬ 
try.” 

“Ah! my father!” exclaimed Rosa, with art¬ 
less fervor, “ I am sure God will preserve you 
through every danger, for I will pray to him 
earnestly and unceasingly.” 

May his holy will be done in all things,” re¬ 
plied the Count, “ and if we submit to it in a 
proper spirit we shall be happy, come what may; 
moreover, I am so happy at this moment that I 
would not give. expression to any saddening 
fear. We shall now descend to the chapel 
where the priest and two of c^r good friends 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


83 


await us, and then; affianced before God’s holy 
altar, you can calmly and trustingly look for¬ 
ward to the moment when you shall be irrevo¬ 
cably united. Come, my children.” 

Raphael, in a tumult of joy and surprise, 
offered his arm to Rosa, and they followed the 
Count to the chapel. They approached the altar 
with becoming reverence; the Count deposited 
on a plate of chased silver a diamond ring 
which was an heir-loom in his family, and 
Raphael placed by its side another jewelled ring, 
ia which was set a miniature of his mother. 
After the blessing had been pronounced the be¬ 
trothed exchanged their rings, then retiring to 
the vestibule, they threw themselves on their 
knees before the Count, who embraced them 
with tears of joy. It was subsequently agreed • 
that, without affecting any extraordinary re¬ 
straint, they should all be silent on the subject 
jof the ceremony which had taken place. “ And 
'now,” added the Count, “ let us rejoin oui 
friends.” 

It was about eight o’clock, yet the bright 
day-beam had scarcely dispelled the lingering 
shadows of the morning twilight; the firmament, 
in its deep opal blue, thinly veiled by trans¬ 
parent clouds, announced another of those cold, 
clear days, which are scattered over the dreary 
time of winter as harbingers of the spring. At 
that moment the Castle resembled a fortress 
taken by assault; a constantly increasing multi¬ 
tude fronted its lofty gates, and the esplanade 


84 


THE KNOUTj 


was covered with the population of the neigh¬ 
boring hamlets armed with sticks and rusty 
guns. The court-yards were fired with guards 
and huntsmen, some on horseback and others 
on foot, some blowing a merry blast on their 
hunting-horns, while others set up the coupled 
and baying hounds, all of which it may easily 
be imagined, made a wild and clamorous uproar. 
At first the Russian garrison which had, on the 
previous evening, taken possession of the castle, 
attempted to keep the people from entering, but 
very soon they were penned up by the curious 
and astonished multitude in a corner of the 
court-yard where the only thing they could do 
was to assume a defensive attitude, and establish 
a ficquet at a grating in the wall, so as to keep 
a watch on those who went and came. 

In the meantime the Count passed on into the 
immense hall, where all that had any pretensions 
to gentle blood were already assembled. Ra¬ 
phael came after and by his side, leaning on his 
arm, was Rosa, more charming than ever in her 
hunting dress, her fair tresses hanging in ring¬ 
lets on her shoulders and her beautiful eyes cast 
to the ground, as though to conceal the radiant 
joy by which they were just then animated. 
The progress of the party was necessarily slow, 
being every moment arrested by the salutations 
of their friends and acquaintances. The first 
impulse of Stanislaus, when he caught a glimpse 
of Rosa was to dart forward and offer his arm, 
but another glance discovered Raphael, and his 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


^85 


fine countenance beaming with delight was sin- 
^ gularly unwelcome to Stanislaus, who became 
suddenly fearful that after all he might be de¬ 
feated. The surprise, nay, consternation so 
visible on the speaking features of the young 
noble was quickly perceived by the Count, who, 
remembering that he owed him a formal an¬ 
swer, took him aside into the embrasure of a 
window : 

“My dear friend,” said he, “ I have to thank 
you for the proposal yesterday made by you 
through my son, and must express my regret 
that it is not in my power to give you a favora¬ 
ble answer. I am bound to tell you, with the 
frankness that becomes a soldier, that my daugh¬ 
ter has made Imr final decision, and for me I 
have left the matter entirely to herself.” 

“I must, then, have been deceiving myself,” 
muttered Stanislaus, in an embarrassment that 
he could not conceal, “ as I should certainly 
never have made such a proposal had I dreamed 
of your daughter’s refusal. However, since the 
Lady Rosa has made her choice, I have only to 
retire from the field the best way I can.” 

“ But, my dear Stanislaus,” exclaimed the 
Count, with that military vivacity which never 
quitted him, “ we cannot part thus. Had we 
before us the prospect of a«eries of festivities, 
I should never think of urging you to remain 
amongst us, but the truth is, that though my 
daughter has been, as it were, forced by circum¬ 
stances to pronounce her decision, yet the matter 
s 


86 


THE KNOUT, 


rests there for the present. No, no,—other scenes 
now await us, wherein your position is promin¬ 
ently marked, and I am sure that our private 
affairs will be forgotten in the more engrossing 
interests of the common cause!” 

“ God forbid, my lord,^^ Stanislaus exclaimed 
with noble energy, “ God forbid that I should 
be tempted to forget my engagements with you. 
On the contrary, I hope to give you every proof 
of my devotion to our national cause!” 

“You will, then, remain?’^ said the Count, 
extending his hand to Stanislaus. 

“ Certainly I will.’^ 

And you will permit me now to leave you 
in order to speak with some of these gentle¬ 
men V’ 

“Oh! pray make no ceremony with me!” 
The Count walked away, and breakfast was 
just then announced.—The repast which ushered 
in the chase was not jvithout importance in Po¬ 
land, for not only the guests, but all the subor¬ 
dinates who were to figure in the sport had a 
right to take their seats around the truly hos¬ 
pitable board, and the halls were crowded with 
people who eagerly pressed forward for their 
turn at the table. From time immemorial a 
liunting party given by a noble was looked upon 
as a popular festival, in which all had a right to 
share; but since Poland, in her enslaved con¬ 
dition, had ceased to be a martial nation, it 
seemed as though the fiery ardor of her sons 
-had transferred itself to this noble and manlv 


A TALE OP POLANL. 


87 


sport where courage, activity, and skill might 
yet be displayed. Those nobles and gentlemen 
who had no .longer the right or privilege of 
maintaining bands of soldiers at their own ex¬ 
pense, now applied all their resources to keep 
up magnificent hunting trains—some great lords 
there were who kept all the year round no less. 
than three hundred men, wdiose sole business it 
was to follow them to the chase, in which they 
were likewise joined by friends and acquain¬ 
tances, and by their neighbours of all ranks in 
society. On such occasions, indeed, whole vil¬ 
lages rose with one consent, and rushed with a 
stunning shout into the woods. This, the]), 
was just the scene going forward in Count Bia- 
lewski^s castle: wine, beer, mead and brandy 
flowed around like water, while the servants 
quickly followed each other carrying in immense 
dishes of a made-up substance called rogue's 
hash^ composed of saur kraut^ sausages, pork, 
and other meats all mixed up together, and 
around these dishes the hungry huntsmen eager¬ 
ly thronged. Nor wer0 the peasantry denied a 
seat at the board, and a brimming glass. This 
formidable repast was at length concluded, and 
the signal for departure was given. The Count 
had, however, provided for the safety of the 
castle in case of any sudden attack, and when ho 
presented himself at the head of his numerous 
retinue at the gate of the court-yard, he saw the 
Russian troop drawn up in order of battle, and 
its commander advance towards him. 



88 


THE KNOUT, 


“ My lord Count,” said the Eussian comman¬ 
der, “ my instructions require that I should no 
permit your departure from the castle, and I 
trust you will see the necessity of yielding with 
a good grace to this trifling restraint.” 

“ You will doubtless favor me with the rea¬ 
sons for this very harsh proceeding, my good 
sir?” replied the Count with difficulty restrain¬ 
ing his indignation. 

“ My lord, orders are sent to me, I transmit 
them to my men, and am bound to see that they 
are executed. This is all that belongs to me, 
and I have nothing to do with causes or mo¬ 
tives.” 

“ Well,'sir!” returned the Count with the ut¬ 
most coolness, “ I have no mind to obey your 
orders, and have as you see, a sufficient escort 
to continue my journey without your leave. I 
WOUI4 warn you, however, for your own sake, 
to avoid an unequal struggle which would be 
sure to end in the total annihilation of your 
troop.” 

“ Such being your lorHship’s intentions, you 
are prepared, I suppose, to accept their respon¬ 
sibility, having doubtless reflected maturely on 
what you are about to do. For me, the only 
thing I can now do is to keep my men on the 
defensive, and to enter my protest against what 
I consider an act of rebellion.” 

“ Sir, it would require an army to restrain 
Poles when setting out for the chase.” And so 
saying the Count spurred his courser, and beck- 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


89 


oned to liis numerous train to ibllo^j^, his friends 
having silently awaited the conclusior. of. the 
recent dialogue, evidently well disposed to 
second the warlike defiance of their host. 
This incident had no other result than that of 
arousing to a high pitch the martial enthusiasm 
of the hunters, who speedily filled the air with 
their national airs and many a shout of exuber¬ 
ant patriotism. And so commenced the great 
chase, apparently directed against the wolves, 
but in reality to merge into a combat still 
fiercer and more determined. Yet the secret 
of the conspiracy was still known but to a few 
of the leaders, who were to retire at an ap¬ 
pointed time to a secluded glade within the 
depths of the forest to concert their projects. 
In the meantime the great body of the hunters 
were preparing to form an immense circle 
around the savage animals who were heard 
howiing in the distance. The wolf-chase in 
Poland may be regarded as a truly defensive 
war, required for the common safety. Prom the 
beginning of November till the end of Febru¬ 
ary these ferocious beasts pour over the country 
in immense numbers, sweep through the villages, 
and tear away the domestic animals even from 
their stables, and wo to the unlucky traveller 
who journeys alone on their path, for neither 
the rapidity of his horse nor his own courage, 
even though he be well armed, can save him 
fix)m a horrid death. Roaming about in bands 
of thirty or forty they throw themselves with 



90 


THE KNOUT, 


ravenous fury on whatever crosses their path, 
and it requires a full troop of hardy and warlike 
men to beat them back. It is then easy to con¬ 
ceive the great utility of these public hunts, 
and the ardor with which all engage in them. 
Some days before the projected party, the 
wood-rangers were sent to survey the lodging 
of the particular band it was intended to 
destroy ; from their station by night in the top¬ 
most branches of high trees, these men imitated 
the cry of an old wolf, whereupon the cubs set 
up a hideous howling, and thus disclosed the 
place of their concealment to their wily foes. 
The lodgement of the wolves being thus 
discovered, they were retained there till the day 
fixed for the hunt by throwing in amongst them 
a quantity of worthless carrion. 

Arrived near the appointed place, a short 
pause was made in order to restore order 
amongst the hunters, whereupon the head game- 
keeper, who was the real director of the chase, 
proceeded to assign to each individual his post 
and his duties. Before the strong net-work 
placed by his orders at all the principal open¬ 
ings, he stationed men armed with huge sticks 
and sheltered behind the trees; then between 
the net at every thirty paces he placed the 
hunters, taking care that they were not under 
scent. The young lads who were to make the 
beat held themselres as close as posssible to the 
spot whence they were to start the dogs at the 
foe. As for the dogs, they were no sooner freed 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


91 


from their lashings, than they flew with the ra¬ 
pidity of lightning into the underwood; the 
huntsmen blew their horns, and the chase in¬ 
stantly began. With eye fixed, ear strained, 
and finger on his trigger, each hunter remained 
motionless. The deepest silence reigns around, 
when suddenly one of the dogs gives tongue, 
then another, and another, and soon the whole 
pack joins in the clamor. The echoes of the 
forest catch up the noise, now increased an hun¬ 
dred fold by the cries of the hunters, the crack¬ 
ing of whips, and-the loud neighing of the 
affrighted horses. On the other side the lads 
have broken the beat crying out with all their 
might and striking the trees with their sticks. 
Surprised and terrified, the wolves venture out, 
to seek safety in flight, but a murderous volley 
is poured in on them from all sides, and those 
who escape the lead, rush madly into the nets. 
And then the horns sound without intermission 
that glorious finale—“ Death to the wolves, and 
victory to the hunters.'^ 

The bat'tle once gained, the order established 
by the head keeper was quickly broken up, all 
pressing eagerly forward to witness its results, 
while groups of hunters are seen plunging here 
and there into the thicket in pursuit of the scat¬ 
tered remains, of the band. Meanwhile, Rosa, 
surrounded by some of her friends, and attended 
by the most experienced huntsmen, had courage¬ 
ously led on- the main body, while her father, 
with the other conspirators, had retired to their 


92 


THE KNOUT, 


place of meeting. Stanislaus al>ne was not 
found amongst them. In the tumult and wretch¬ 
edness of his mind one thought alone restrains 
him from giving way to the fierce promptings 
of his frenzied jealousy. It is still possible, he 
thinks, that Rosa may not have voluntarily re¬ 
jected him—might she not have accepted his 
rival through the influence of her father, and 
by his commands ? This point he must speedily 
have decided. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Notwithstanding his recent explanation with 
the Count, Stanislaus could not bring himself 
to believe that he was entirely rejected, and re¬ 
straining with difficulty the motions of his 
wounded self-love, he watched impatiently for 
an opportunity to speak with Rosa. But, alas I 
Raphael was ever by her side, watching over 
her safety with the tenderest solicitude, and 
anticipating with careful foresight the va¬ 
rious dangers of the chase. He spoke to her, 
too, in a low, earnest voice, and Rosa listened 
with an interest so great as though nothing 
could have diverted her attention from what he 
was saying. And Stanislaus followed at the dis¬ 
tance of a hundred paces or so, his heart rent 
and torn by alternate shame and jealousy, as he 



t TAI^ OF POLAND. 




notei all their motions. It is probable that no 
such opportunity as he desired would have pre¬ 
sented itself had not the preconcerted signal an¬ 
nounced from a distance that the hour of meet¬ 
ing for the patriots was come, whereupon Ra¬ 
phael plunged his horse into the thicket, and 
disappeared in the direction of the sound. And 
had Stanislaus listened to the voice of honour 
or of duty he, too, would have gone; but allow¬ 
ing himself to be governed by his evil passions, 
he spurred his charger, aiid quickly rode up to 
Rosa. The latter,.surprised by seeing him so 
suddenly, and in such visible agitation, exclaim¬ 
ed in a faltering voice: 

‘‘ I was far from expecting to see you here, 
M. Dewello; I thought you were gone to the 
meeting.’^ 

“NoI Lady Rosa,” replied Stanislaus, with 
an emotion which he no longer sought to con¬ 
trol, “ I am by your side, most probably for the 
last time.” 

“ What do you mean, I pray you ?” 

“ You cannot be ignorant of my meaning, if 
it be true that you have voluntarily rejected the 
proposal which I yesterday had the honor to 
transmit to your father.’^ 

“Voluntarily!” repeated Rosa, with empha¬ 
sis ; “Are you aware that you do my father a 
grievous wrong to suppose him capable of co¬ 
ercing my will ?” 

“Then, lady, it is you who repulse me?” 
cried Stanislaus, with swelling indignation. 



94 


THE KNOUT, 


“ The word is a harsh one, and I should never 
have used it in this case,^^ returned Rosa, calmly; 
“ but it is certainly true that I have accepted a 
nobleman for whom I have ever professed and 
entertained the most profound esteem.’^ 

“ That is giving me to understand exactly 
what you think of me, and I should retire with¬ 
out a word more, cursing the day when I saw 
you first. Nevertheless I will so far humble 
myself as to explain to you the motive which 
induced me to seek an interview in which I 
have played no very dignified part in your eyes. 
It is true that though I have never dared to tell 
you so, you were the star of my future, and for 
two whole years I have devoted my every 
thought to you, which you could not but per¬ 
ceive. During those two fatal years there were 
times when I ventured to think that my atten¬ 
tions were acceptable to you, and (alas I how 
cruelly am I punished for my presumption!) I 
even dared to flatter myself that I stood higher 
in your favor than any Of my rivals. I have 
been deceived it appears, but say, Lady Rosa, 
was the fault or error altogether mine ? 

Stanislaus paused, believing that his question 
was most embarrassing for one so frank and 
sincere as Rosa. The latter was, indeed, 
puzzled what to say, and sometime elapsed be¬ 
fore she ventured to reply; yet when she spoke 
her voice was calm and even firm. 

“I was hesitating whether I should at all 
answer you, and whether respect for myself did 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


95 


not imperatively call upon me to put a stop at 
once to a conversation wherein I am every mo¬ 
ment treated with unbecoming levity. I have 
at length decided to reply, less to justify my¬ 
self, it may be, than to make known to you a 
certain order of ideas with which you appear 
to be wholly unacquainted. Yes I I have com¬ 
mitted a fault in admitting, as perfectly inno¬ 
cent, those thousand little intimacies which 
society willingly sanctions; I have erred in 
putting faith in the disinterestedness of those 
who spontaneously loaded me with their kind 
attention, and talked so nobly and so movingly 
of friendship and esteem. I should have known 
that people of the world calculate amid their 
very pleasures and amusements, and will not 
take the slightest trouble without hope of a 
three-fold renumeration. I should have turned 
aside from those flowers which were strewed on 
my path but to hide its pitfalls, and should, 
above all, have remembered that innocence is 
an object of ridicule to that world, who, if per¬ 
mitted, will speedily tarnish its purity and 
wither its freshness. Simplicity and credulity 
are the faults whereof I have been guilty. 
Suffer me to tell you, however, that I think it 
is only myself who has a right to condemn these 
errors, and that I had severely done, before you 
took upon you to call me to account. I deny, 
therefore, your idle accusations. You have 
never been deceived by me, and to end as I 
have begun, I must tell you that if there were 


1>6 


THE KNOUT, 


aay deception in the case it was prj^ctised by 
you, when you, knowingly surrounded me with 
snares, and wrested my simplest words and 
deeds into a meaning all your own. I have con¬ 
fided in you because I looked upon you as a 
friend, and I defy you to produce a single word 
of mine which could be made to bear any other 
interpretation.” 

In the course of this address Rosa had insen¬ 
sibly displayed all the masculine energy of her 
nature, her look and voice giving double force 
to the firmness and decision of her reply. Stan¬ 
islaus was utterly confounded by the justice as 
well as the keenness of her reproach, and though 
his whole frame trembled with passion, he sought 
only to secure his retreat. “ To persist now,” 
said he, “ would be indeed to overstep the 
bounds of respect. I am perfectly well aware 
of those whom I have to blame for your opinion 
of me, and so I take my leave, promising never 
again to obtrude myself upon you I ” 

Thereupon he turned down the first path, and 
throwing the reins on his horse’s neck, permit¬ 
ted him to go on at random. His soul at that 
moment resembled a tempestuous sea, whose fu¬ 
rious waves lash each other on with ceaseless 
violence: disappointment, envy, hatred and 
jealousy held alternate possession of his mind, 
each leaving behind, as it passed away, a sting 
of deadly venom. Whither will he go ?—what 
must he do ?—One thing is certain, Raphael 
must be the victim, and already he thirsts for bis 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


97 


blood, and will force him to a combat even if it 
be necessary to spit upon his face. And then 
the Count—oh I yes I he can do for him, too— 
he will defeat all his projects—he will have a 
glorious revenge by informing the government 
of his plotting and planning, and that will be 
sure destruction. At this latter idea, Stanislaus 
stopt short a moment, and he felt the blush of 
shame kindling on his cheek, and blending with 
that of anger. Ha, would not that step be sure 
to disgrace him for ever? Well, then, he will 
openly declare himself the enemy of the Count; 
he will meet him sword in hand on the battle¬ 
field, and there seek an honourable revenge.— 
Yes, but then he would also be the enemy of 
his country, and were her defenders to obtain 
the victory, what a withering blow that would 
be! No, no—he cannot thus dishonour himself, 
and a sudden re-action of feeling urged him to 
join the assembly. With ill-suppressed emo¬ 
tion, he turned his steed towards the appointed 
rendezvous, muttering as he went, “ I know how 
to obtain satisfaction without compromising my 
honour. 

While Stanislaus made his toilsome way 
through the thick underwood, he was followed 
afar off by his worthy steward, Firley, who, hav¬ 
ing early in the day noticed his master’s unusual 
dejection, was determined to find out its cause. 
The animated manner in whieh Stanislaus had 
spoken to the young Countess (for Firley was 
too far off to hear the conversation) and then 




9'8 


THE KNOUT, 


the abrupt termination of that interview had 
sorely puzzled the good man. Pie suspected 
that Stanislaus had been rejected, though if so, 
he was at a loss to understand why, as the only 
thing he had feared was that his success was 
certain; but now he had seen that his master 
was enraged, and driving his horse like a mad¬ 
man through the copse, he at once deter¬ 
mined to appear before him if he possibly could, 
in order to turn his violent anger to some ac¬ 
count. But what was his astonishment when, 
after an hour’s riding, he saw' Stanislaus enter 
a glade, where a number of gentlemen were as¬ 
sembled, in the midst of whom was the Count.— 
Great was the joy of the honest steward, as 
creeping on all fours, he reached a spot where 
he could hear all that might be said. 

This meeting was held in the midst of the 
forest, but far removed from the hunt, which 
was so managed as to keep aloof from this direc¬ 
tion. This spot had been the scene of many a 
former conference, and was admirably suited to 
the purpose, being the bottom of a profound ra¬ 
vine, whose sides were overgrown wdth bushes, 
and the whole shaded by enormous pine trees, 
so as to form an almost impenetrable obscurity 
—at least there was, even in daylight, a gloom 
like that of twilight. There were present on 
that occasion about twenty individuals, almost 
all of the higher nobility, wdth four or five; dele¬ 
gates from some of the neighboring cities, 
Grodno and Wilna among the rest. The Count 




A TALE OP POLAND. 


9 ^ 


was evidently the leader, and being fully sensible 
of the value of time when the enen^y was actu¬ 
ally in possession of his own castle, and might 
so easily obtain strong reinforcements, he pro¬ 
ceeded at once- to relate with the most animated 
gestures the late occurrences which had taken 
place in Warsaw, “ and here,^’ said he, laying 
his hand on his son’s shoulder, “ here is one who 
can bear ocular testimony to what I have told 
you. This, then, is the reason why I dared this 
morning to assert my independence, as you saw 
—the time of slavery is past—that of freedom 
is dawning on us again!” 

At these words an indiscribable enthusiasm 
took possession of all present, and forgetful of 
their own safety a universal cry arose of 
“ Liberty and Poland I” 

“ Now, my lords and gentleman!” cried the 
Count with resistless energy, “ there is no more 
time to foresee, to deli berate, or to plan; we must 
act—promptly and resolutely. The grand strug¬ 
gle has commenced, and its success may depend 
on our speedy intervention. If Lithuania rises 
simultaneously, and interposes between the 
army of the Grand Duke Constan tine, encamped 
under the walls of Warsaw and the reinforce¬ 
ments which he expects from Russia, we can 
easily subdue that army, disheartened as it is 
by a first defeat—we can then form a junction 
Avith our valiant brethren of Warsaw and await 
on our frontiers the new Russian forces. Only 
let us now show ourselves worthy of the task 


100 


THfe KNOUT, 


confided to us, and we go far to secure to our 
country that independence of which treachery 
and lawless violence have deprived her. Our 
fathers have protested an hundred times against 
this odious yoke of hypocritical and brutal 
power—let us, as they did, shed the last drop 
of our blood to maintain our rights against all 
proscription. In three days, my friends, our 
entire - force must march on Grodno, thence, 
doubled and trebled (as I trust it will be) we 
shall proceed to Wilna, whence we may com¬ 
mand all Lithuania. Remember ever that 
wherever we go our oppressed brethren await 
us as their liberators. This very day I hoist 
the national banner in every quarter of my 
domains, and if you are willing, we shall name 
my castle as our centre of operations, as I have 
been appointed to the command in these parts. 
My claims to that high honor you all know—1 
began my military career under Kosciusko, 
and grew old under Napoleon's eagles—I have 
won my military rank step by step at the price 
of my best blood.’’ 

Yes! Yes I none so fit as you to be our 
chief 1” cried out the assembled Poles with one 
voice—“ we willingly ratify the appointment, 
and will follow wherever you chose to lead.” 

“ Let us then proceed at once to business,” 
said the Count, “ and in order to act with as 
much prudence as boldness, we must first enu¬ 
merate our forces, so as to know exactly how 
to dispose of ourselves to the best advantage. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


101 


You will each have the goodness to mention 
the number of men that you can reasonably ex¬ 
pect to bring to the field. My noble friend 
Ubinski, who is at length associated in our 
projects, has undertaken to make the calcula¬ 
tion and report it to us.” 

They then went rapidly on with this census 
of the future soldiers of Poland, fearful of 
making longer delay, lest it might give rise to 
suspicions which might then be troublesome. 
Whilst Raphael was engaged in taking down 
the numbers, the others eagerly awaiting the 
result, one of the noblemen present, Leopold 
Majoski, (wlio has already been mentioned as a 
former candidate for Rosa’s hand) observed that 
Stanislaus Dewello was absent. 

‘‘ Oh I ’ said the Count, q^uickly; “ I know the 
cause of his absence, but it is just the same as 
though he were amongst us.”" 

“ Undoubtedly,” rejoined Leopold, “ I will 
answer for my friend Stanislaus!” 

“ My lords and gentlemen,” said Raphael, as 
he finished his calculation, “ the sum total of 
our force amounts to three thousand ’ men, of 
whom six hundred are horsemen, fully equipped.” 

“ Bravo I” cried the Count, gaily, “ with such 
a force as that I shall take Grodno almost with¬ 
out a shot, and there our numbers will be at 
least doubled, I mean by armed and disciplined 
men, for, of course, we shall be everywhere 
sustained by the people. So then, comrades 
all I in three days we meet again around the 
9 * 



102 


THE KNOUT, 


castle of Bialewski, and you know there arc 
heaps of arms concealed in those woods for 
those who may want them. Thank God, the 
moment draws ni^h when we shall fight and die, 
if necessary, for Poland!’’ 

Just as the assembly divided itself into two 
or three groups, in order to rejoin the hunters, 
Stanislaus appeared amongst them. He was 
quickly surrounded by a number of his friends, 
who all remarked his extreme agitation, and 
sought to learn its cause. 

“ Oh 1 it is nothing, my good friends—abso¬ 
lutely nothing!” answered Stanislaus, making a 
strong effort to assume composure, “ my horse 
took it into his head to run away with me, and 
the course he selected was anything but a plea¬ 
sant one—so that’s all, I do assure you.” He 
was then informed of what had passed at the 
meeting, and he, in return, promised to bring in 
three hundred men. As for the Count, he 
feigned not to perceive the coldness of Stanis¬ 
laus, and spoke to him with as much candor and 
good-humor as if nothing had occurred between 
them, and this both surprised and embarrassed 
Stanislaus, whose heart was, after all, strongly 
susceptible of kindness and generosity. Thrice 
happy had he been if he had not given the 
reins to his passions and his caprices. But un¬ 
fortunately for himself he knew nothing of those 
internal struggles in which the soul wars against 
these vile passions and subduing them, obtains 
a more splendid victory than ever warrior gained. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


103 


He had resolved to be revenged, and if, in his 
calmer moments, he had rejected the first 
promptings of his wrath, it was because he had 
found that they would tarnish his honour, but 
the thirst for vengeance still remained un¬ 
quenched.—Appro^iching Raphael, then, at the 
moment when the latter was putting his foot in 
the stirrup, he accosted him with a smile, and 
begged for a moment’s conversation.—Raphael 
bowed assent, and they turned aside from the 
others, when, after having rode for some minutes 
without speaking, Stanislaus stopped, sprang to 
the ground, and requested Raphael to do the 
same, his whole countenance, as he spoke, under¬ 
going a fearful change: 

“ My lord,” said he, in a hurried tone, “ I 
have to demand of you an explanation, or rather 
satisfaction.” 

“ You will perhaps have the goodness to in¬ 
form me of the cause of this demand?” said 
Raphael, who showed but little surprise, for he 
knew full well what it was that had excited 
Stanislaus to such a pitch. 

“ The cause—the cause—” repeated Stanis¬ 
laus, with considerable embarrassment, “ the 
cause* is no trifling one, and I warn you before¬ 
hand that mere idle excuses will not satisfy me 
—blood alone can wipe out the injury I have 
received.” 

“ Oh ! as to that, my dear Stanislaus,” replied 
Raphael, coolly, “I have no intention of offer¬ 
ing excises where I am not aware of having 



104 


THE KNOUTj 


done wrong. As to our shedding each oAer’s 
blood, I will tell you frankly what I think of it, 
when you have given me your reasons for this 
strange demand, as otherwise I shall leave you 
at once.’’ 

“Well,” cried Stanislaus, cRsconcerted by the 
imperturi)able calmness of his rival, “ You need 
not pretend to be ignorant of the treatment I 
have received from the Count, nor of the indig¬ 
nity which has been offered me, for all which I 
hold you accountable, and demand from you that 
. satisfaction which one man of honor seeks from 
another I” 

“ A man of honor (remember, I quote your 
own words as addressed to me on a former oc¬ 
casion) a man of honor is bound in duty to 
withdraw his claim when a decision has been 
made in favor of another!” 

“ Oh yes, you do well to mock me. But you 
will also please to remember that I then told 
you what were my claims and my expectations, 
yet you wilfully crossed my designs, and per¬ 
fidiously destroyed my well-founded hopes, and 
I have, therefore, sworn—ay! sworn to be re¬ 
venged I” 

“ So then,” said Raphael, still maintaining 
his composure, “ because you were pleased to 
cast your eyes on a young lady, you must needs 
have her, even against her own will and that 
of her father. And because I have had the 
good fortune to find favor in her sight, you 
would provoke me to deadly combat. From mj 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


105 


soul I pity you, Stanislaus, but I cannot nor 
will not accede to your wishes, for if passion 
carries your reason captive, I have not the 
same excuse, and would deem it worse than 
madness to accept your rash challenge. More¬ 
over, religion as well as reason forbid these 
barbarous combats, so unworthy an enlightened 
age. And again—suppose you were to fall— 
how would that satisfy your revenge ?” 

“So yoii will not fightcried Stanislaus 
furiously, for in proportion as he felt his con¬ 
duct contemptible and unreasonable, his wrath 
waxed higher and higher. 

“No, Stanislaus I certainly not, and yod 
might have known as much before.” 

“ But you shall—I will force you to it;” and 
snatching a pair of pistols from his holsters, he 
held one towards Raphael in a menacing man¬ 
ner—“ Do not drive me to despair, I warn you,” 
he wildly exclaimed. 

“ Oh! if you wish to assassinate me, the case 
is different,” replied Raphael, with the utmost 
composure, “and I cannot prevent you.” 

Stanislaus, in the midst of his fury, quailed 
before the intrepid look of his former friend, 
and as even a momentary pause showed him the 
magnitude and horror of the crime he was about 
to commit, he threw away the pistol, and dived 
into the thicket. 


lOG 


THE KNOl>rr 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Stanislaus had only walked a short distance 
through the forest when he Saw Firley ap¬ 
proaching, leading by the bridle his deserted 
steed. 

“ How happy I am to see your lordship 
again,’’ cried the worthy steward, “ for I feared 
that some accident had befallen you. I was 
surprised when I missed you from your usual 
post beside the Lady Rosa (who will soon be, I 
suppose, my honored mistress,) and could no 
way account for your absence when I came upon 
your horse, wandering through the copse, and 
your Lordship may judge that I became dread¬ 
fully anxious. But will you please to mount?” 
added the faithful servant, as he remarked the 
increasing agitation of his master. Stanislaus 
made no reply, but flung himself into the 
saddle. 

“ And what frightened me still more,” per¬ 
sisted Firley, “ when I can^e to examine the 
saddle, I perceived that one of your pistols 
was gone. But very soon after I had made 
this alarming discovery the Count and your 
friend Ubinski passed, quite near me, and I 
heard them repeat your name several times, and 
one of them spoke as though he had just left 
you. I then heard the Count say—‘ Oh 1 as to 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


107 


that, Ubinski, I can answer for Stanislaus—at 
least, we are sure of his vassals, and that, you 
know, is the main thing.’ ” 

Now there was not a word of truth in this 
very plausible story, but as he had followed his 
master step by step and saw all that had passed, 
he had built up a structure to suit his own pur¬ 
pose. His fabrication had, in the first place, 
effectually aroused Stanislaus from his stupor. * 

“ Ah indeed! is it thus they use my name ?” 
cried he, with a strange smile, “ I am rejoiced 
to hear this, because if they wish to use me for 
their own private ends, I have just cause for 
breaking with them altogether. For you. Fir- 
ley, you will ride forward to the castle, and 
draw thence all our people. I shall await you 
on the road, so make no delay as business of 
importance demands my presence at home.^^ 

“ Oh, certainly my lord wishes to superintend 
in person the preparations for his marriage,” 
observed Firley, as though he understood not 
the drift of his master’s words. 

“ Firley !” cried Stanislaus with sudden fury, 
if you ever repeat that word in my presence, 
you shall have cause to repent it—and, after 
all, what is it to me?—and I can now curse my 
own folly for having been so long devoted to 
one whom I now heartily despise. You must 
know, then, Firley, that the Count and his 
daughter have both rejected my offerA^ 

Rejected your offer!” repeated Firley, in 


103 


THE KNOUT, 


well feigned astonishment, although that worthy 
had already guessed how matters stood. 

“ Yes, rejected—and the preJierence given to 
my friend Raphael.’’ 

“ Well, my lord, I can only say that if T had 
not heard it from your own mouth I could never 
have believed it.” 

“ And yet, Firley, it is a hateful truth I” 

“ And after all my noble master is about to 
return home and collect his vassals that he may 
range them under the Count’s banner—for so I 
heard that nobleman say. I cannot but admire 
your magnanimity, though I must own I would 
never have given my master credit for such pro¬ 
found humility!” 

“ A truce to raillery, Firley I and help me 
to work out my revenge I” 

“ Oh I with all my heart!” returned the stew¬ 
ard, with perfect sincerity. “ And, indeed, I 
might have known that a nobleman of unblein- 
ished honor such as it is my pride to serve 
could never have pocketed ain affront so gross. 
Then for your revenge, my good lord, why, it 
must be proportionate to the grevious wrong 
you have sustained—that is certain. Well I 
think the best thing your lordship can do is 
to abandon these wretches to themselves, and 
when left to their own paltry resources, you will 
soon see them bitterly deplore their treatment 
of jou, and even sue with all humility for your 
forgiveness. Then you can give them contempt 
for eontemot and treat them as they deserve I” 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


109 


*‘And I assure you I will do it with right 
good will, but now it looks bad for me to give 
up the national cause for a private quarxel. I 
have unhappily made an engagement which, to 
l)rcak, would be dishonor.” 

“ And God forbid, u^ lord I that I should 
advise you to do anything against the dictates 
of your conscience; the truth is that I admire 
exceedingly the delicacy of your sentiments. 
But yet I must be permitted to remind you that 
you have your personal dignity to sustain, and 
that it, too, has its rights. If you do not wish 
to pronounce hastily, at least maintain towards 
those who have injured you a cold reserve, so 
that you will be free to act hereafter as your 
own honor and interest may require.’^ 

“ Yes I that is very nearly what 1 had thought 
of,’ fluttered Stanislaus, but half aloud. 

Meanwhile, about three or four o’clock the 
faint wintry sun began to decline westward; the 
north wind piped shrilly amongst the tall and 
leafless trees, and the hunters widely scattered 
over the fields and roads thronged in to the mer¬ 
ry sounds of the horn. Notwithstanding the 
fatigues of the day, and the sharp squalls of the 
frosty wind, they approached the castle with 
laugh and song, wearing more tlTe aspect of a 
victorious army than a troop of huntsman. 
Some were discussing the most striking incidents 
of the chase, others disputing on the skill and 
dexterity of those who bad distinguished them¬ 
selves in the course of the day; some were 
10 


110 


THE KNOUT, 


playing lively airs on small trumpets fabricated 
of the bark of the birch tree, while others gaily 
fired at the numerous flocks of crows who, 
hovering around, contributed by their harsh 
croakings, to swell still louder the general up¬ 
roar. On reaching tft castle, another festival 
awaited the hunters, who took care to march in 
perfect order, and with a show of haughty de¬ 
fiance in front of the Eussian soldiers, who 
stood under arms motionless as statues, and 
many a bitter jest and biting sarcasm was flung 
at them by the Poles as they passed. They 
then proceeded to take their places at the table 
which had long awaited their arrival; bottles 
flew merrily from hand to hand, and glasses 
were clinked together with hurras which awoke 
the slumbering echoes of the vaulted halls. 
Throughout that vast assemblage the most per¬ 
fect harmony prevailed—masters for the time 
forgot their distinctive rights, and all were fel¬ 
low-citizens and brethren. It was when these 
fraternal transports were at their height that 
the Count arose, and in a loud, clear voice, 
commanded silence, when, as if by enchantment, 
the clamor ceased, and gave place to a profound 
stillness. 

“My friends!’^ cried the Count, “glorious 
n6ws have reached us—Warsaw has driven 
forth the Eussians, and all Poland is on fire. 
Our brethren have sworn to die or conquer the 
tyrant, and shall not we imitate—shall we not 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


Ill 


\id them? Yes, Poland for ever, and death to 
the oppressor!” 

As though it were an electric spark, this news 
set hearts and souls on fire, and roused them al¬ 
most to delirium.—Rising with one accord, they 
embraced each other, laughing and weeping al¬ 
ternately, and wildly stamping their feet in uni¬ 
son, as the cry was echoed from mouth ±o mouth, 
“ Poland—Poland for ever! Death and ven¬ 
geance for the Russian tyrants!” But they 
stopped not there, for each man ran and snatch¬ 
ed up his arms, and brandishing them aloft, they 
cried as with one voice that the Russians must 
be instantly expelled from the castle, “ for Li¬ 
thuania,” said they, “must be free like War¬ 
saw.” 

“ All in good time,” said the Count, “ and 
there is no doubt but we shall do as our brethren 
of Warsaw have done. Follow me now, but be 
sure that no one strikes a blow until I give the 
signal. We are twenty to one, and it would 
throw foul dishonor on the national cause were 
we to shed the blood of a defenceless enemy.’^ 

Rushing then into, the court-yasd, with arms 
in hands they quickly surrounded the pavilion 
occupied by the Russians, before the. latter had 
time to respond to the cry of their sentinels 
Their chief was thrown completely off his guard, 
because having seen the Poles entirely given up 
(as he believed) to the pleasures of the table, 
he never dreamed of an attack from them. So 
it was that while one half of his men were 



112 


THE KNOUT, 


sleeping, the other half were quietly eating their 
supper. 

“ And now let me tell you that resistance is 
useless,” said the Count, as he advanced alone 
into the Russian quarters, “ and would but 
draw down destruction on your whole party. 
We have no desire to shed your blood, but we 
must and shall be masters on our own soil. 
You will then give up your arms to us, and 
having done so you may retire unmolested and 
go wherever you please.” 

The Russian officer still hesitated, but casting 
a glance behind him, he saw that the greater 
part of his men were far from being in readi¬ 
ness to support him, he was therefore compelled 
to yield. 

“ The duty of a soldier,” said he, as though 
to excuse his submission, “ The duty of a sol¬ 
dier is to die rather than yield, but when even 
his death can do no good, I think he may with 
honor capitulate.’’ 

The Count had at first resolved to keep this 
detachment as prisoners of war, but fearing 
that he might* not be able to command the long 
pent-up wrath, of his people, who might insist 
on sacrificing the Russians to their vengeance, 
he generously decided on dismissing them from 
the castle. Availing himself at once, then, of 
his influence over his friends, he prevailed upon 
.them to consent to this capitulation. The Rus¬ 
sians then, glad to escape with their lives, 
marched out with heads uncovered through the 


4 TALE OP POLAND. 


113 


stately ranks of their adversaries, and rapidly 
gained the open country. 

“I am afraid,” said one of the gentlemen 
who stood near the Count, “ that this act of 
generosity may draw upon us a large reinforce¬ 
ment of the enem}"; and that sooner than we 
think.” 

“ And that very idea made me hesitate at 
first,” said the Count, in reply, “ but then again 
I quickly remembered that whether I retained 
these Russians or.sent them away, there are 
sure to be spies somewhere about us, who will 
be only too glad to inform against us, and make 
a good job for themselves. And, moreover, a 
causd so just, so holy as ours must never be 
tarnished by cold-blooded cruelty. Now, gen¬ 
tlemen,” went on the gallant old soldier, “ w^e 
must strain every point in order to follow up 
as it should be done, this first act of independ¬ 
ence. It behoves us, then, to separate for the 
present, but on the third day let us assemble 
here again, at the head of all our* vassals. 
Once more I would remind you that -it is idle 
to ^i^aste time so precious on trifling prepara¬ 
tions ; profit, on the contrary, by the enthusi¬ 
asm first evoked,—bring hither all who are 
willing to follow your banners, for we have 
arms and ammunition for all. You will leave 
here with me as many of your men as you can 
spare, and I shall employ the time in drilling 
them, and in forming our battalions so as to be 
ready for the- field as soon as you ari^ve with 
10 * 



114 


THE KNOUT, 


the remainder of your forces. And so I will 
bid you adieu for the present, and may God 
bless your endeavors I” 

The confederates then took leave of each 
other, promising faithfully to meet at the ap¬ 
pointed time, sword in hand, ready for the 
battle, and on those conditions each set out for 
his own domains. As the evening was then far 
advanced, the Count applied himself, with the 
aid of Casimir and Raphael, to dispose of his 
numerous guests for the night. When all the 
inferior apartments of the castle had been filled, 
the neighboring farm-houses were put in requi¬ 
sition, and group after group wheeled away, 
saluting the Count, as they passed him, with 
patriotic exclamations, until all had sought 
their appointed lodgings, and silence reigned 
where all had so lately been tumult and uproar, 
no sound being heard save the measured step 
of the sentinels as they paced their prescribed 
bounds. 

Then it was that the Count, Rosa, Casimir 
and Raphael drew their seats around the cheer¬ 
ful hearth to discuss the events of the day and 
the chances of the future, “ All have done 
their duty,’’ sard the Count, “ and I trust that 
even Stanislaus, though he left us so abruptly, 
will not disgrace his name when the day of trial 
comes. Notwitlistanding his disappointment I 
think we may reckon on him.” 

It matters not,” said Casimir, ‘‘ but for my 
part, I had no idea that ho was so susceptible 
AS this most ill-timed fliglif would prove him to 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


115 


be. Do you know that all our friends who are 
acquainted with his rejection are convinced that 
he is at bottom a coward.^’ 

“ Stanislaus is far too passionate to be a 
coward,’^ said Raphael, “ but I think it likely 
that the poor lad will endeavor to console 
himself for his disappointment by some new 
method.” 

‘‘ Do let us be charitable, friends mine,” in¬ 
terposed Rosa, and let us at least compassion¬ 
ate those who are unhappily governed by furi¬ 
ous passions!’’ Just as she spoke, another 
individual joined the little circle, to their sur¬ 
prise as well as pleasure—it was the Abbe 
Choradzo. 

“ My dear friends,” Said the good priest 
smiling, “since my parishioners have all come 
hither to enrol themselves under your banners, 

I have come to offer my services should you re¬ 
quire a chaplain.” 

“ A thousand thanks, my dear, good friend.” 
exclaimed the Count, warmly shaking the 
priest’s hand, “ for you are worth a whole bat¬ 
talion to us.” 

“ My children,” said the worhhy vicar, “ the • 
counsels of peace would be now superfluous and 
out of place, and though my ministry is essen¬ 
tially one of peace, yet its functions change not 
tlieir character when exercised amid the tumult 
of battle and the horrors of bloodshed. Wher¬ 
ever death is hovering in the air, there is the 
olace for the priest of the Most High, whose 



116 


THE KNOUT, 


office it is to lead souls to God. My duties of 
prayer and charity may then fulfilled in the 
midst of those stormy scenes which will soon 
burst on these devoted provinces. Besides, 
though a priest, I am yet a citizen of Poland, 
and an ardent upholder of her imperishni)lc 
rights. As a priest, I would have sought to 
attain those rights by some- other, and, it ap¬ 
peared to me, surer means, but you have de¬ 
cided otherwise—my country takes up arms to 
break the unjust and intolerable yoke which 
oppresses her, and I owe her my feeble support. 
Dispose, therefore, of all my little property, and 
and do with it whatever you may deem best for 
the common good.’’ 

“ If God is for us who will be against us?’^ 
cried the Count with enthusiasm. 

“ Ah ! be not deceived, my friend,’^ returned 
the priest quickly; “ the just cause is not always 
successful, whether it be that means are often 
employed which God cannot sanction, or whether 
it be that by the failure of such causes as have 
right on their side, God himself proves to us 
the indispensable necessity of his rigorous judg¬ 
ments. Let us, however, place our whole trust 
in God, and whatever may be the issue of events. 
His almighty arm will never fail us. And now 
my dear Count, I must beg a bed in your fort¬ 
ress for to-night—it is time to seek that repose 
which wearied nature requires.’’ 

The little party then separated,and promised 
to be up and stirring before the dawn, and 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


117 


they kept their word. The fearful anxiety 
' which all more or less felt, suffered none to en¬ 
joy very long the tranquil pleasure of sound 
sleep. As soon as the daylight appeared, the 
Count set out to examine in detail the ground 
around the castle so as to prepare his defences 
against a surprise. The castle itself was only 
open to a front attack, for in its rear lay, as we 
have said, the vast and impenetrable forest, but 
then*the front was only defended by an old 
moat on which the ravages of time were every 
where visible, and the facade was of such a length 
as to require a numerous garrison, the more so 
as there was not a single piece of cannon. 

‘‘ We can decide on nothing,’’ observed the 
Count to Raphael and Casimir, who accom¬ 
panied him, “ until w^e have ascertained the 
exact number of our garrison. Let us go and 
see.” 

Thli ^court-yards were, even at that early 
hb^r, thronged with people, who were flocking 
in from all the surrounding country. But the 
multitude was composed,'in a great measure, of 
w^omen, children and old men. The Count 
commanded silence, and ordered all those who 
were lit to bear arms, to pass behind him; in a 
moment he was obeyed, and arms were distribu¬ 
ted amongst these men, who numbered about two 
hundred men—Casimir immediately set about 
giving them what training the time would per¬ 
mit. The Count then conducted the immense 
•crowd of those who were unfit for service to 



118 


tHE INOUT, 


the esplanade in front oi the castle, and showed 
them how they could make themselver useful 
by fetching earth from the fields around to 
form an entrenchment on the line of the 
moat. There'upon, the whole multitude of old 
men, women and children, set eagerly about their 
work, and as they numbered altogether no less 
than seven or eight hundred, and worked with 
right good will, the work sped bravely on, and by 
evening of that same day, the entrenchment as¬ 
sumed an imposing aspect. At that time the 
castle began really to look like war—hour after 
hour witnessed arrivals of arms, provisions, and 
volunteers, and every where was seen the most 
cheering good humor and even joy. Within the 
castle Rosa was not idle; calm and serene in 
the midst of confusion and uproar, she occupied 
herself, with the assistance of the priest, in pre¬ 
paring bandages and medicaments for -tthose who 
might be wounded in the conflict. 

It was about four o’clock in the afternojiyii 
when a considerable body of Russian troops 
was seen advancing towards the castle. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


iia 


CHAPTER IX.^ 

Although the Count affected to make light 
of this sudden appearance of the Russians, yet, in 
reality, it gave him the most serious uneasiness; 
• in the first place, he was far from being ready 
to receive them, and in the next it was more 
than probable that the presence of such a force 
in the neighborhood would paralyse the energies 
of his friends, and deter many from coming for¬ 
ward. He at once resolved to judge for himself 
as to the actual number of the enemy, and re- 
questing Raphael to accompany him, he set out, 
followed at a short distance by some of his 
people. Having crossed the narrow river which 
formed the boundary of the esplanade, they 
turned to the right, in the direction of Grodno, 
and had -not journeyed far, when, by the last 
glimmering light of day, they saw all too 
plainly a glittering forest of Russian bayonets 
covering the road far and near. The column, it 
appeared, had halted, and the officers, standing 
together at a short distance, seemed consulting 
on what next was to be done. 

“ There are not less than seven or eight hun¬ 
dred men there,’-' observed the Count; “ what 
a misfortune it is that we have not had two 
days more to prepare—were but our forces 
gathered together we could easily manage this 


120 


THE KNOUT, 


division, and then the advantage of obtaining 
the first victory would have been an incalcula¬ 
ble one to us, as it would awake the enthusias¬ 
tic hopes of the people ? 

“ I perceive they have three or four pieces 
of cannon, too,” said Raphael, pointing them 
out to the Count. 

“ So much the worse for our chance of main¬ 
taining our position,” replied the Count, with a 0 
dejected air. But let us not forget ourselves 
here, for we have not a moment to lose. It will 
be an hour yet before the enemy can reach the 
castle, and as it will then be pitch dark, he must 
suspend his operations till the morrow, so that 
we have still from twelve to fifteen hours to 
urge on our defences. If we then find them of 
reasonable strength, we may try a forlorn hope, 
and if we are too weak to attack these Rus¬ 
sians, as I much fear we shall be, our remaining 
here as long we can may give our friends time 
to rejoin us. Truly, I am at a loss, to know 
how it is that these Russians have got here so 
quickly, for the prisoners whom we liberated 
could not even yet have reached Grodno, much 
less to be back again with reinforcements. To 
what, then, are we to attribute this unlooked-for 
apparition ? It is a mystery to me !^' 

Yet, unaccountable as it seemed to the Count, 
the matter is plain enough, for this sudden ap¬ 
pearance of the Russians was the natural conse¬ 
quence of ihe note addressed by Firley to the 
Russian officer. The latter had instantly sent 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


121 


off an express requesting a reinforcement, and 
next day when he was on his march to Grodno 
with his men, he had fallen in with these troops 
who, in compliance with his desire, had been 
sent on by forced marches. But the reinforce¬ 
ments consisted of not more than a hundred 
men, and the face of things had changed' com¬ 
pletely since he had sent for them—it was then 
the object to arrest a criminal, but now a revo¬ 
lution had commenced, and must be put down at 
all hazards. The two detachments, then, had 
stopped to await the arrival of a still larger 
force, for which they had sent back to Grodno. 
And so it was that the Russians had baffled the 
Count’s foresight by appearing before his castle 
two days sooner than he had expected. 

“ My dear Raphael,” said the Count, as they 
speedily retraced their steps towards the castle, 
“ 1 have not attempted to conceal from you the 
imminence of our danger; and you see, there¬ 
fore, that.everything depends on keeping up the 
courage of our little garrison, and if possible 
redoubling their enthusiasm, since our only 
chance rests on one bold stroke. Were it not 
for the artillery, I should not .fear so much, but 
its effects are terrible on raw, undisciplined 
men.” 

“ Well! at worst we can do as the Yendeans 
did in their unequal struggles against the French 
republic,” responded Raphael, gaily. “ We can 
kneel before the cannons, so that the balls will 


11 



122 THE KNOUT, 

pass over head, and then rush on the cannon- 
iers!” 

“ Why, Raphael, it is the suggestion of an old 
soldier. You must always have had a hanker¬ 
ing after our trade, notwithstanding your late 
condemnation of our policy.—You cannot have 
forgotten, either, that some years ago, you were 
among the most sanguine of my young friends, 
and I suppose nature ever comes uppermost, do 
what we will, as a buoy floa-ts on tlie water 1” 

“Under one form or another,’’ answered Ra¬ 
phael, “ my first thought has ever been that of 
devoting myself to my country, and I shrink not 
from shedding my blood for her since she re¬ 
quires it at my hands.” 

“ Ah! would that all our confederates re¬ 
sembled you, my friend, for then I should have 
no fears—success would then, indeed, crown our 
efforts.” Here they arrived at the esplanade, 
where they found the rustic garrison all assem¬ 
bled. 

“ My friends:’ said the Count, as he alighted 
from his horse, “'my friends, the Russians are 
near, but before they can undertake anything 
against us ^we shall far outnumber them, and 
my only fear is that our friends, surrounding 
them on all sides, may deprive us of the honor 
of the victory !” 

“ Let us go now, then—lead us on at once to 
meet them!” was heard on all sides, and so 
great appeared the enthusiasm of the people, 
that the Count was reassured. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


123 


“ Not so!” said the Count, in a tone of com¬ 
mand, “ you shall not march hence till the fitting 
time is come. Remember tliat you are soldiers, 
and must be perfectly obedient to your officers. 
This night I expect numerous reinforcements, 
and till they arrive we must do nothing, for 
we know that our friends would wish to have a 
share in the glory of the first victory, so let us 
do as we would be done by. Have your arms in 
perfect readiness, and leave the rest to us.” 

Having thus guarded against the effect of the 
sudden appearance of the enemy, the Count ap¬ 
plied himself to increase the strength of his de¬ 
fences by all possible means. He ordered large 
fires to be kindled all along the esplanade, in 
order to give the appearance of a numerous en¬ 
campment, and then hurried on the forming of 
the entrenchments which were to screen his 
people from the cannonading. He next pro¬ 
ceeded to the river, which must necessarily be 
crossed in order to reach the castle, and saw 
that the wooden bridge which stretched across 
it was cut away. Thus h’e hoped to delay the 
attack, by obliging the Russians to erect a 
bridge before they could cross. Having by this 
manoeuvre gained a few hours more, he sent out 
scouts to raise the country and others to watcli 
the enemy, and then entered the castle with 
Raphael and Casimir. . They were met at the 
gate by Rosa and the vicar, who were anxious 
to leajm the news. 

“ There will be nothing serious before to- 


124 


THE KNOUT, 


morrow,” said the Count, in answer to their 
inquiries; “but we have great need to profit by 
the intervening hours. Evert you can give us 
effectual aid, as it is absolutely necessary to 
write immediately and send off an express to 
each of our friends, urging them to come hither 
before the dawn with whatever force they may 
have in readiness. You will then be my secre¬ 
taries on this occasion.” 

The Count then wrote a letter which was 
copied about twenty times and with as many 
different addresses, and the messengers were 
instantly despatched with orders to ride as 
though for life or death, and to return as quickly 
as they went. 

“ Are you then afraid of being forced in your 
entrenchments ?” inquired the Abbe, when the 
last letter had been sealed and sent off. 

“If we have not here before eight o’clock to¬ 
morrow a thousand men at arms,” replied the 
Count, endeavoring to appear calm, “ we shall 
be obliged to take refuge in* the woods, as 
otherwise it would be madness to attempt hold¬ 
ing out. I would rather, too, inarch away of 
our own accord than expose my small band to 
a contest so unequal, and sure to end in a de¬ 
feat which would go far to discourage our 
friends. I cannot believe, however, that we 
shall be left to ourselves, for though our rendez¬ 
vous was fixed for the third day, yet I am sure 
that no time was lost in setting about the pre¬ 
parations, and as our messengers have been sent 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


125 


around to-da}", we have every reason to hope 
that we shall have reinforcements to-night or 
Qiarly to-morrow. My dear Rosa !” he added, 
turning to his daughter, “as we are on the very 
eve of a bloody engagement, we should endea¬ 
vor to prepare ourselves by needful rest, so go 
to your chamber, my daughter, and try to ob¬ 
tain a few hours’ sleep, whilst yet you may.” 

“ Many thanks, my dear, kind father ! but if 
I left you I should be harrassed with a thousand 
fears—near you I am always courageous ; and, 
moreover, under existing circumstances, I am 
sure I could not sleep. And, you know, or 
must know, that I consider myself as one of 
your council of war, which, if I mistake not, is 
now sitting, and therefore how can I retire ?” 
And Rosa smiled sadly as she spoke. 

The Count insisted no more, for he well 
knew the courage and firmness of his daughter, 
and that she could really bear up against fa¬ 
tigue in a manner little usual with her sex. 
The conversation was then resumed, and the 
tedious hours of suspense were beguiled by the 
various calculations and suppositions as to the 
probable amount of the expected succour. The 
first courier who arrived brought the reply of 
Stanislaus Dewello, stating that as the grand 
meeting had been fixed for the third day, he 
conceived that the Count had no power to call 
in the levies sooner; that for his part he would 
be guided by circumstances, and held himself 


11* 



126 


THE KNOUT, 


responsible to no individual; he was perfectly 
independent, and intended to remain so. 

“ The wretch! he dishonors himself!” cried* 
the Count, warmly. “No, I do not, could not, 
believe that his pride and jealousy would carry 
him so far as this, and I will own that I did 
calculate on his support.” 

“Be not surprised at this dereliction, my 
dear Count,” said the vicar, “ for where the 
passions are permitted to rule, there has 
honor, no fixed tenure.” 

Kaphael then recounted what had passed be¬ 
tween Stanislaus and himself, at their last 
meeting, of which he had not before spoken to 
any one. “ From that moment,” he concluded, 
“ I saw that his furious and vindictive jealousy 
might well end in treason to the cause.” 

“ Oh, my God 1” exclaimed Rosa, much agi¬ 
tated by this recital, we could never sufficiently 
despise such baseness, did we not rather incline 
to pity it. But how nobly you acted, Raphael I” 
she suddenly added, as she turned her moistened 
eyes on her lover, “ and I tremble wlien I think 
of the danger to which you were thus exposed.” 

“ Let us forget this worthless young man!” 
exclaimed the Count, “ for he was not worthy 
to serve in the ranks of his country’s defenders, 
and fliis very circumstance should convince us 
that only the pure of heart will be admitted as 
champions of the righteous cause. Thus may 
all withdraw themselves from us whose hearts 
and souls are filled with the impure leaven of 


I 



A TALE OF POLAND. • 127 

earthly and selfish motives, for though our num¬ 
bers may be in that case grievously thinned, wo 
may be better prepared for victory, and more 
likely to obtain it.” 

“ Did not the little band of the Maccabees 
wrest the independence of their country from 
all the armies of the tyrants ?” said the Abbe, 
with solemnity. “ And history everywhere 
shows us that mighty hosts may be defeated by 
a few heroic spirits for whom death is preferable 
to slavery or dishonor.^’ Almost while these 
words were being spoken another messenger 
arrived, and was speedily followed by another 
and another. 

“ Let us see the news which these men bring 
us,” said the Count as he approached the several 
couriers wUh an air of forced gaiety. But the 
answers were nearly all of a similar nature ; all 
professed themselves taken by surprise. Some 
found it quite impossible to have their people 
ready at so short a notice, and could bring little 
more than a few faithful servants; while others 
(and they were the larger number) could not 
think of doing anything against so large a force, 
and were completely taken aback by the pre¬ 
sence of the Russians. Surprised at the very 
ojDening of their preparations, they had con¬ 
cealed their arms, and put a stop to the pro 
ceedings until better days should come. The 
Count was entirely overpowered by these cheer¬ 
less announcements; all his brilliant hopes were 
then blighted in the bud; Lithuania madly re- 


128 


THE KNOUT, 


jected a most glorious opportunity; Warsaw in 
vain expected their aid, and must lose, through 
their miserable cowardice and fatuity, the fruit 
of her own magnanimous efforts; the iron of 
slavery was to (dg driven still deeper into their 
souls; while himself must sink ingloriously to 
the tomb without having seen the light of free¬ 
dom dawn on his country. These bitter thoughts 
sank deep, deep into the heart of the veteran, 
and he could scarcely support their accumulated 
weight. But tlien he remembered the heavy 
responsibility which rested upon him, and he 
endeavored to rally his flagging spirits." 

“It is well; said he, addressing his ambas¬ 
sadors, who remained standing before him, 
covered with dust and perspiration, “ go and 
take some repose, for we shall soon find our¬ 
selves face to face with the enemy.’' 

“ What do you propose doing, father?” de¬ 
manded Casiinir, when they were alone. 

“ In truth, my son, I scarcely know,” returned 
his father, dejectedly. “ Before I take any de¬ 
cisive step, I shall wait another Iiour for the 
arrival of those who really intend to join us. 
We shall then see what is to be done.” 

Alas ! hour after hour passed away, and only 
five or six gentlemen arrived, with about fifty 
of their followers—all daring and resolved, it is 
true, but then how insignificant in number. A 
council was then lield, and after all the proba¬ 
bilities had been fully discussed, it was resolved 
to make a retreat, and escape the vengeance of 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


129 


the Russians by seeking an asylum amid the 
inaccessible forests of the neighborhood. There 
at least they would be free to consult on what 
, was best to do, and issue from those wild fast¬ 
nesses^ at will to make a bold stroke for freedom 
and Poland. It ’was, moreover, necessary to 
have a rallying point whither the friends of na¬ 
tionality might gather from all parts of the 
province. The Count, therefore, with admira¬ 
ble composure, gave orders for the evacuation 
of the castle; he saw that the horses were loaded 
■with all sorts of provisions and ammunition j 
distributed the most valuable furniture and or¬ 
naments amongst the neighboring farmers, who 
eagerly promised to preserve them for him till 
happier times; ^the greater part of his papers he 
committed to the flames, and then summoning 
his domestics to his presence, as also the peas¬ 
antry who had come in on tlie evening before, 
he announced that all who feared the opening 
campaign and its hardships, might retire to 
their homes. But they answered with one ac¬ 
cord, that wherever he went they would follow, 
and there was no mistaking their sincerity. 

“My friends!’’ said the Count, with deep 
emotion, “ we shall see brighter days—yes, your 
heroic devotion assures me of it. Let us per¬ 
severe, my brethren, until we have tired out our 
ill luck, and then we shall have a change.” 

With the activity of a man well accustomed 
to military operations, he then proceeded to di¬ 
vide his little band into two detachments, one 


130 


THE KNOUT, 


of which he sent forward with the baggage, 
while the other was kept to cover the retreat. 
He then entered the castle, where he found the 
women and children overpowered with terror— 
tears, and cries, and groans being heard on 
every side. At first nothing would satisfy them 
but to carry off everything, ^when, having been 
shown that this was impracticable, they were 
sorely puzzled to make choice of what they 
could carry. What was to be taken?—what 
was to be left ?—those were the grand ques- 
tionSf Then they picked up,.in their eagerness, 
so many things, that they were obliged to drop 
some, and their piteous cries resounded far and 
wide. It was then, “ Listen! I declare, the 
enemy is at the gates !”—‘‘ Oh ! We are lost, we 
are lost“ But what reddish light is that ?— 
Fire !—Fire I’’ whereupon women and children 
rushed pell-mell through the halls and galleries; 
in vain did the Count seek to re-assure the un- 
happy creatures, for, maddened by contagious 
fear, they rushed wildly on, with the strangest 
and most ludicrous gesticulations. The Count, 
in the meantime, passed on to where his children 
were grouped together. 

‘‘ All is now ready,’' said he, “ and we have 
only to take our place at the head of our brave 
people. One precaution alone remains, and it is 
an indispensable one as matters now stand. I 
have been for a considerable time hoarding up 
large sums, wherewith to bear my share of the 
expenses of the revolution. This wealth con- 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


131 


Bists chiefly of title deeds and jewels, which we 
can easily secrete about our persons. I have 
divided it into three equal portions, of which 
you, Eaphael, will take one, as my daughter's 
marriage portion, while Casimir and I will take 
charge of the other two. Thus, if we are sepa¬ 
rated, each will still be in possession of funds, 
which will, above all, ,be devoted to the further¬ 
ance of the great cause in which we are em¬ 
barked. I know that I have no need to recom¬ 
mend Eosa to your tenderest care—bound to 
her as we all three are, she cannot want a 
protector should either of us fall. And now for 
the last consultation—shall we put fire to the 
castle before we go, that the Eussians may find 
but a heap of ashes 

“ I say, yes!” said Casimir, eagerly, “ let 
them not desecrate our old halls by their ac¬ 
cursed presence.” 

“Do no such thing, I entreat you!” ex¬ 
claimed Eaphael with equal earnestness— 
“ destroy not yourselves this noble pile, which 
may one day assume all its ancient splendour 
in your hands, should victory be indeed ours. 
Besides to burn it would give the signal for a 
war of extermination.” 

“ Farewell, then, home of my fathers 1” cried 
the Count with tearful eyes, “ I leave you now 
in sorrow and in gloom, but oh I may these dear 
children one day return and find shelter within 
your venerated walls!” 


132 


THE KNOUT, 


CHAPTER X. 


It was about six o’clock on the following 
morning when the Count ordered the retreat of 
the last division of his little garrison. Before 
they set out, he caused them to light up again 
the line of fires on the esplanade, so as to make 
the Russians believe that the castle was still 
occupied, for the shades of night still enveloped 
the scene, and precluded any close inspection. 
There was every hope that the Polish garrison 
might reach in safety the shelter of the forests, 
for independent of the all but impossibility of 
overtaking a retreating force which is deter¬ 
mined not to fight, the Poles, being on their 
native ground, could choose a position which 
would enable them to resist the attack of even 
a much larger body than that with which they 
had to deal. After some time the Count and 
his party came up to their advanced guard, and 
they all marched on together for some hours in 
the direction of Grodno, from which they were 
but ten or twelve leagues distant, but the in¬ 
equality of the ground rendered the journey 
much more tedious. At the first halt, which 
took place at eleven o’clock, the Count was in¬ 
formed the Russians had entered the castle, but 
manifested no intention of following the fugi- 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


133 


tives towards the woods. On the contrary they 
seemed determined to make the castle their 
head-quarters, whence they might watch and 
commahd the surrounding country. 

“ Since they do not think of pursuing us,*’ 
said the Count to his friends, “ we may as well 
make an encampment here in the woods. I am 
not without hopes that we shall soon be suffici¬ 
ently numerous to march forth with floating 
banners, but if, contrary to my hopes and ex¬ 
pectations, we are not speedily reinforced, then 
each will be at liberty to return home, or if he 
likes it better, he may try to make his way 
through the Russiau lines to our gallant breth¬ 
ren of Warsaw.** 

They then set about making their encamp¬ 
ment ; the Count, his family, and the few gentle¬ 
men who had followed his fortunes, took up 
their abode in the hut of a forester, while the 
mass of the troop, consisting entirely of pea¬ 
sants who were well inured to hardship, hastily 
threw up some sheds formed of the branches of 
trees, which they covered with clay, so as to 
shelter them from the inclemency of the 
weather. Day after day emissaries were des¬ 
patched through all the country round, with the 
hope of obtaining reinforcements, but at even¬ 
ing they returned wearied and exhausted, bring¬ 
ing ever the same discouraging answers; as 
usual, the Russian authorities were ever on the 
watch and left no means untried that might 
break down the patriotic spirit of the people. 

e 12 


134 “ THE KNOUT, 

The insurrection of Warsaw was now known 
throughout all the provinces which had formed 
the kingdom of Poland, and the intelligence 
was everywhere greeted with stern and threaten¬ 
ing exultation. From Ukraine to Gourland the 
dismembered and fettered nation seemed but 
to await the signal to start up in arms. The. 
Russian government, however, had resolved not 
to be again taken by surprise, and commenced 
its new series of operations by forcing under 
its banners almost every Pole who could carry 
arms, and this in order to draw off the strength 
of that portion of ancient Poland which though 
nominally subject to the Czar, seemed ever wil¬ 
ing to seize the opportunity to weaken and even 
cast off his yoke. All Lithuanian officers sus¬ 
pected of patriotism were removed into Rus- ^ 
sian regiments, so that, having under their 
thumb all those who might have acted as leaders 
of the rebellion, it became easy to control the 
people, deprived of those who would concert 
and arrange their plans. The police, too, re¬ 
doubled its activity and watchfulness; in virtue 
of a general ukase the gymnasiums were 
thrown open; while the frequent denunciations 
and investigations which took place struck 
terror 'to every heart. Every remnant of ancient 
franchise was revokedj new imposts were added 
to the accustomed taxes; martial law was pro¬ 
claimed and the people were only too well 
pleased to get rid of their arms by giving them 
up. 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


135 


So it was that the utter desertion of which 
Count Bialewski had to complain, was but too 
well excused by these terrible proceedings of the * 
government. When after having waited three 
whole weeks, he saw that he had nothing to de¬ 
pend on but thiB handful of brave men by whom 
he was surrounded, he was forced to acknowl¬ 
edge that he had been too precipitate, and that 
the nation was not yet prepared for a simultane¬ 
ous movement. Yet painful as was this convic¬ 
tion, it had not power to discourage him, for he 
was one of those men who are fired by the pres¬ 
ence of danger, and who, once entered on a peril¬ 
ous career, must go on—on either to death or 
victory. Constrained to abandbn for the present 
the war of arms, he turned his attention to the 
other means which might be tried to promote 
the ultimate success of the cause. Even this 
task was one of exceeding danger at a time 
when the fear of the Russian government weigh¬ 
ed like a mill-stone on men’s minds, but the 
Count shrank not from the danger, nor feared 
to surmount the obstacles. 

“We must not be discouraged,” he observed, 
“notwithstanding these grievous disappoint¬ 
ments. It is hard, I will own, to forgive the 
criminal weakness, which has left us thus de¬ 
serted, but we know that it is not the Ifeart 
which is at fault, it is only that our people are 
terrified by the dreadful state of the country. 
We are then oound to overlook their falling 
away, and must only endeavour to reanimate 


136 


THE KNOUT, 


their broken spirits and incite them to make an 
unanimous effort. And now we must separate, 
placing our swords in our scabbards until we 
can use them with profit to our country. You 
know that our victorious brethren declared 
their intention of taking refuge, in Lithuania, 
let us then be prepared to receive them as bro¬ 
thers, and to aid them in their gallant struggles^ 
for liberty.” 

These words were heard in mournful silence, 
for, notwithstanding all the hardships of the 
season, and of their unsheltered state, that 
sturdy band of patriots could not brook the 
thought of laying down their arms. “Yet, it 
must be done, my brave and worthy friends,” 
said the Count, kindly, but console yourselves 
with the thought that I give you but a tempo¬ 
rary dismission. In the meantime you will do 
all you can to hasten the moment when we shall 
meet again under the waving flag of Poland. 
First of all, you will spread the report, when 
you reach your homes, that I have gone into 
Poland proper, in order to reach Warsaw, if 
possible. This false report will abate the ardor 
of pursuit, and will thus give me time and op¬ 
portunity to work out my views for our common 
deliverance from slavery.” 

As each in his own heart was convinced that 
at present their remaining together was worse 
than useless, they at length consented to depart, 
and taking leave of the Count and his family, 
with the greatest 1 respect, they disposed them* 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


137 


selves in small knots, so as to elude suspicion 
in returning to their deserted homesteads. The 
Count was thus left alone with his children (of 
whom Raphael was of course one) and a few 
faithful vassals of his house. Many of the wor¬ 
thy peasants, however, had voluntarily promised 
to bring constant intelligence as to the move- 
#ments of the enemy. The forester, in whose 
house the Count' and his family were lodged, 
was an old soldier, who had served under the 
Count in many a campaign, and who would have 
been willing, at any moment, to lay down his 
life for ]iis former captain, and this devoted 
follower made it his ‘chief study to supply the 
family with the choicest game, and also to carry 
on the communication with the various agents 
of the Count. Whik't awaiting the time, then, 
whence the false rumor of his flight should have 
lulled, the Russians, into forgetfulness of him, 
the Count busied himself in making arrange¬ 
ments for a campaign, not military, but diplo¬ 
matic. 

“ The extreme severity with which the Rus¬ 
sians have crushed this revolt,’’ said he, will 
certainly produce a speedy re-action, which it 
is for us to anticipate by representing to our 
friends that they have nothing to lose, and much 
to gain, by having recourse to arms. Ground 
down, as we are, beneath the iron despotism of 
Russia, a single victory might bring us some 
relief. Nevertheless, I am well aware of the 
discouragement arising from the late fruitless 
12 * 


138 


THE KNOUT, 


attempt wliich our enemies have not failed 
to turn into ridicule. This, then, imposes 
on us the necessity of developing our plans, and 
enlarging the basis of our operations, so that by 
the multiplicity of our efforts we may discon¬ 
cert the enemy and give confidence to our 
friends. 1 am now about to lay before you my 
new projects, and request your candid opinion 
of their merits.— One of ns must go immediate¬ 
ly to Grodno and to Wilna, in order to confer 
with the committee already organised in each 
of these important cities, in order to ascertain 
their probable resources, and still more how 
they stand towards the national cause; then 
after learning their decision as to the proper 
time for taking up arms, the delegate must go 
on into Samogitia, where he will be sure to find 
the truest sympathy and a cordial welcome. If 
you had no objection, my dear Raphael, to such 
a mission I should be most happy to entrust it 
to your prudence and good sense.’’ 

“ I gladly accept the mission,” replied Ra¬ 
phael. The Count, having completed his arrang- 
ments, Raphael started on his important errand. 
On his arrival near Grodno he discovered a 
numerous encampment close without the walls. 
The fact was that the authorities having by 
some means obtained a knowledge of Count 
Bialewski’s plans, and understanding that the 
first attack was to be made on Grodno, had con¬ 
centrated to that point all the disposable forces 
within a circle of twenty-fi^^e leagues. Raphael 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


139 


saw at a glance that it would, therefore, be as 
useless as it was perilous to endeavor to open a 
communication with the Poles in the citj^, for 
even should he succeed in making his way with¬ 
in the walls, what effect would his representa¬ 
tions have on a people so subdued and spiritless, 
kept down by such an army as lay within and 
around their city? Without losing anymore 
time in hesitation, he at once resolved to set 
out for Wilna, which lay about thirty leagues 
distant. As no recent attempt had been made, 
and that Wilna was far removed from the neigh¬ 
borhood of Count Bialewski’s domains, which 
at that moment attracted all the attention of the 
government, Raphael - had hopes that he could 
there obtain admission and be enabled to confer 
with the national committee. These calculations 
encouraged him to proceed, and at the end of 
two or three days he found himself on the 
heights which overlook Wilna. But now, how 
to get through .the gates, for, if he announced 
himself as a traveller, he should necessarily 
undergo a rigorous examination which was al¬ 
most sure to end in his sudden execution. 

“ If I could only inform some one of our 
friends in the city that I am here,’^ said Raphael 
to his guide, “ I am sure they would find means 
to elude the vigilance of the police, or come 
here and meet me 'where I am.” 

“If that oe all, my lord,” said the guide, “I 
can manage it easily. , You see those carts laden 
with grain and provisions which are going to- 


140 


THE KNQUT, 


wards the city?—well! I can easily lallow them, 
and by scraping up an acquaintance with their 
drivers. I can pass for a peasant of this neigh¬ 
bourhood, and go in without the smallest trou¬ 
ble.— Only give me your instructions and the 
proper address of your friend or friends, so‘that 
I may not excite curiosity by my wandering 
about making- inquiries, and leave the rest to 
me.^’ 

“ I thank you, my worthy fellow I ” said Ra¬ 
phael, “ your idea is excellent, and we cannot 
do better than put it at once into execution.^’ 

, Raphael was well acquainted with every locals 
ity in Wilna for he had studied several years 
in the University there, and he gave his guide 
the most minute directions how to find the house 
of a famous lawyer named Sapiehna. He then 
repeated to him several times what he wished 
him to say to the advocate for he dared not give 
him a letter lest it might compromise his safety 
if, unluckily, he was stopped by the police. The 
guide , who was a shrewd, intelligent man, 
having received his instructions, set out with a 
light heart, and as light a step, for the city. 
His plan succeeded to admiration, he being ta¬ 
ken, as he had expected, for a peasant going in 
with one of the market carts, and he reached 
without any accident the house of the lawyer, 
with whom he demanded to speak in a great 
hurry as if he had some important law suit to 
lay before him. Being introduced to the pres¬ 
ence of the advocate, and having ascertained 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


141 


tliat they were alone together, he proceeded to 
open his negotiation, or at least to deliver his 
message, whereupon the man of law appeared 
very much embarrased, and, to say truly, more 
than a little frightened, it was truly a most 
imprudent attempt; the police being so very 
much on the alert that there was no possibility 
of concealing anything from them—and then, 
a man once suspected, was a dead man. More¬ 
over, to attempt any sort of insurrection at such 
a time, was really calculated to ruin the cause 
— beyond a doubt it was. 

“ And now my good' friend! what do you 
want me to do ?—I say, what would you have 
me do ?’ demanded Mr. Sapiehna, in a trem¬ 
ulous agitation Avhich spoke but meanly for his 
courage. 

“ In the first place, sir,^’ returned the guide 
coolly, I would have you extricate my master 
from his perilous condition, and then you will 
find him a gallant young nobleman able and 
willing to explain the whole matter which a 
poor, ignorant man like me is not fit to do.” 

The look which accompanied these words 
made the lawyer blush, and recalled to his mind 
the necessity of keeping up that character for 
patriotism which he had obtained by his fiery 
harangues in the national committee. He forth¬ 
with launched out into a long harangue, proving 
himself an uncompromising patriot, and wound 
up by saying that he would go at once and con¬ 
fer with some patriotic friends, and return as 



142 


THE KNOUT, 


soon as possible with their joint resolutions. 
Before he set out he left orders that the messen¬ 
ger should be well entertained. The truth was 
that Mr. Sapiehna was at bottom a true patriot, 
and had long served his country to the best of 
his ability by his eloquence at the bar. In de¬ 
fending the political ofiences of the time he 
shrank not from denouncing openly the barbar¬ 
ous policy of Russia, and so far he was worthy 
of all praise j but when the question turned on 
an appeal to arms, it must be acknowledged 
that worthy Master Sapiehna was troubled with 
the besetting weakness of Demosthenes. His 
intentions were good, notwithstanding, and he 
failed not to go in search of a certain member 
of the committee, a Doctor Neroski, who was 
well known to be of a determined and ener¬ 
getic character, and to him he communicated 
the nature of his embarrasment. The doctor 
at once decided that Count Bialewski's agent 
must be admitted, no matter at what risk to 
themselves, whereupon many plans were pro¬ 
posed and rejected as impracticable, when, at 
length, the intrepid Neroski hit upon a bright 
expedient. 

“ I shall ride out,” he said, “ in my gig, as 
though to visit a patient in the country, and I 
shall take with me one of my students, who 
often accompanies me on my professional visits. 
I can then go to the place where this young 
nobleman is staying', and can leave my young 
man in his place while I take him back hi my 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


143 


gig, and when once we have him in the city, the 
devil is in it, or we can manage to conceal 
him. 

Sapiehna the more readily approved of this 
project, as he had nothing to do in it, and a few 
hours after he learned from Raphael himself 
that it had succeeded as well as heart could 
wish. 


CHAPTER XI, 

But being in Wilna was not the whole, for to 
act there to any advantage required the utmost 
precaution and the most unceasing watchfulness, ^ 
together with considerable loss of time. The 
meetings of the national committee were ex¬ 
tremely rare, as its members very naturally 
feared to draw down upon them the attention 
of a government whose punishments were as 
severe as its power vvas unlimited by law or 
equity. For this reason it became next to im¬ 
possible to effect a general assembly. At one 
time a meeting on which great expectations had 
been founded was suddenly countermanded, 
because a new proclamation just then appeared, 
threatening with banisliment to Siberia all who 
were found engaged in any secret confedera¬ 
tion 5 sometimes they were not sufficiently nu¬ 
merous to venture upon any decisive resolution, 
at other times, their correspondence was inter- 


144 


THE KNOUT, 


cepted, so that there was always some fatal 
drawback. At length the more active members 
did succeed in bringing together the requisite 
number, but the time of meeting passed away in 
idle discussions, and produced no good. The 
committee was divided into several parties, all 
violently opposed to each other, and bent rather 
on carrying out their own peculiar views than 
advancing the general good. Raphael had thus 
passed two whole months in the capital of Lith¬ 
uania, without having been able to obtain any 
satisfactory result; and yet he had done every¬ 
thing that man could do, under the circum¬ 
stances, being fully aware of the vast impor¬ 
tance of bringing so considerable a city as 
Wilna to some public manifestation. And no¬ 
thing would have been easier (had the leaders 
been unanimous and energetic,) with the whole 
vast population ready and willing to cast off 
the Russian yoke, and having a nucleus of 
fiery energy, and devoted patriotism, in the 
students of the University, who desired nothing 
more, as they afterwards proved, than to fight 
and to die for their country. And when Ra¬ 
phael saw all this, he failed not to speak his 
mind to his friends of the committee. 

“ It is your irresolution,” said he to Sapiehna, 
“ that hangs like a clog on the movements of 
the people; and your excessive caution it is 
which freezes up the lifesprings of patriotism. 
In the University—in the streets, impatience 
of restraint is visible on every face—every- 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


145 


where you are asked secretly for arms, and 
yet you coldly answer, ‘Wait a little—wait 
a little—be prudent and all will go well!''' 

The lawyer was not slow in replying, and 
sought for the hundredth time to convince 
Raphael that the city could do nothing until the 
surrounding country had risen. “ Consider,'^ 
said he, and not without reason, “ that all the 
forces of the district are concentrated within 
our walls, and that to enable us to act efficiently, 
a diversion must actually be made without, in 
order to draw off some of the garrison.” 

“ Well, then, my dear friend! I have nothing 
further to do amongst you, and as my protracted 
stay here could do no possible good, I must 
move on into Samogitia, where by all accounts, 
we learn that the work goes bravely on, and 
there I may and can be of some service. And 
perhaps we may pay you a neighbourly visit 
some of these days, when we shall appear 
before your walls with the signal of indepen- 
dence 1” 

“ Surely you will not think of leaving us ?” 
cried the worthy advocate warmly, though in 
his heart he rejoiced in the anticipation of be- 
ing released from his importunities—“ why, the 
truth is, your presence is so useful to us here 
that we can do nothing without you. And be¬ 
sides, how can we reconcile ourselves to your 
setting out alone on such a journey, where the 
roads are everywhere scattered with Russian 
soldiers? !Nfo, my young friend I have a little 

13 



14G 


THE KNOUT, 


more patience—only wait a short time, and you 
will see what we can do.’’ 

“ This poor, pitiful language, which brought 
no blush to the face of the patriot-lawyer, so 
entirely was he governed by his fears, was just 
what was wanting to determine Raphael; and 
he lost no time in quitting the city, which he 
f Ifected by the aid of his good friend, Neroski, 
who gave vent to many a curse against the 
cowardly vacillation of his brethren of the com¬ 
mittee. Followed always by his Lithuanian 
guide, Rapliael plunged into Samogitia, a pro¬ 
vince of ancient Poland, situated to the north 
of Russia, and bordering on Lithuania. This 
region, being thickly interspersed with immense 
forests and lofty mountains, was admirably 
adapted for a struggle with the foreign enemy; 
and whether it was that this circumstance had 
inspired the natives with greater courage, or 
that the discontent was still more deep and 
more general, it is certain that Raphael found 
everywhere as he passed along, all the elements 
of a vigorous insurrection. A number of the 
peasantry, in order to escape being pressed into 
the imperial service, had elected a chief, and 
taken up arms, but on being pursued by the 
Russian brigade, they had fled into the forest. 
Here, then, there was no difficulty in raising 
the people; one of the principal men of Rosi- 
enia, (the chief town of Samogitia,) who wms 
foremost in w'elcoming the envoy of Count Ri- 
alewski, had already made large purchases of 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


147 


arms and ammunition. The peasants and the 
domestics of the castles had been armed with 
scythes, sickles, and axes, while the stables of 
the nobility and gentry were thrown open to 
any one who could manage a horse. There be¬ 
ing a total want of artillery, they had con¬ 
trived a species of cannon, made of the trunk 
of a tree, hollowed out, and bound with mas¬ 
sive bands of iron, and these they mounted on 
wheels and axles of coaches. 

On the 25th of March, the first attack was 
made; the Samogitian bands disarmed the Rus¬ 
sian guards of the canal of Windawa; on the 
following day the garrison of Rosienia was ex¬ 
pelled, and then the people for miles around 
rose up in open insurrection. Yet the first rcr 
gular battle attempted by the leaders of the 
people was anything but fortunate in its results, 
for the raw, undisciplined forces which they 
commanded were unable to resist the steady and 
murderous fire kept up by two thousand w^ell- 
disciplined soldiers, and the consequence was 
that they fled in all directions. Not that they 
were discouraged, but they turned to what they 
were best fit for,—guerilla warfare, by which 
they hoped to harrass and exhaust their enemies 
while profiting by the peculiar features of their 
country.' And in fact, in a very short time after 
this defeat, these hardy warriors did obtain a 
brilliant victory, having driven a Russian colonel 
with bis regiment to take shelter in the Russian 


148 


THE KNOUT, 


territory; and they also took possession of the 
little port of Pologa, by means of which they 
hoped to receive those supplies of arms and 
ammunition of which they stood in need. 

But in order to follow up this spirited attempt 
of the Sarnogitians, it was absolutely necessary 
that a similar effort should be made in Lithuania, 
and to attain that object Raphael bent all his 
energies. The inhabitants of the district of 
Troki gave the example by seizing their chief 
town, and subsequently, when emboldened by 
increased sti'ength they took possession of Osz- 
miana and Wilkomierr, whereupon trampling on 
all that dared to oppose them, they bodly march¬ 
ed on-Wilna to aid its inhabitants in their 
struggle But alas ! these latter, still paralysed 
by terror, dared not support this generous effort, 
for the Russian authorities had emphatically de¬ 
clared that on the first appearance of insurrec¬ 
tion within the walls, they would withdraw the 
garrison, and open a cannonade on the city. 
Meanwhile the insurrection spread far and wide 
through Lithuania, and might have been at¬ 
tended with greater success had there been a 
centre of unity, or any concentration of strength. 
But there was no systematic mode of action, 
nothing done in concert.—Thus it was that every 
little town, nay. village, was the head-quarters 
of a petty revolution having its own chief, its 
own army, and in truth, struggling manfully 
with the foe; and thus it was that the Russians 
were everywhere attacked, harrassed, but rarely 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


149 


defeated, thanks to their strong and perfect dis¬ 
cipline ; yet they were made to suffer very 
severely, and to see their ranks day after da}^ 
becoming thinner. Just then it was, too, tha’t 
the cholera, that terrible epidemic appeared 
amongst the troops, and aided the vengeful 
arms of the long-oppressed Poles. Raphael, 
seeing that the end of his mission was fully ac¬ 
complished, thought seriously of rejoining the 
Count, from whom, to his grievous anxiety, he 
had received no tidings since his departure. 
Passing quickly through Lithuania, and avoid¬ 
ing the vicinity of the towns wherein the Rus¬ 
sians had concentrated their forces, he soon 
reached the boundary of his own domains, and 
resolved to pay a passing visit to his venerable 
parent. His own castle was' but five or six 
leagues from that of the Count, and here, as 
everywhere else, he found the people all armed 
and divided into battalions, as his vassals well 
knew that such was the wish of their absent 
lord. RaphaePg. grand-mother had not quitted 
her castle, and had moreover, retained around 
her only her women and a few faithful servants, 
having sent all her people to enrol themselves 
under the national flag. This venerable lady 
was, as we have before said, a model of every 
feminine virtue.. In her devotion to the cause 
of freedom she had actually given up everything 
that she could spare that might be at all useful 
to the patriot army. All her plate, her house¬ 
hold linen, and the grain from her granaries she 


150 


THE KXOUTj 


had sent to the depot, without even being asked 
to do so. 

‘‘My dear mother!” said Raphael, when, 
after having told her all that he dared not trust 
to paper, he was about to set out once again, 
“ My dear mother, you are very lonely here, 
and I am somehow more fearful than ever to 
leave you so unproteted. Should the Russians 
appear in your neighborhood, you have every¬ 
thing to fear from their implacable animosity.” 

“ My son,” replied the heroic old lady, “ 1 have 
made up my mind to die under my father’s roof- 
tree, and nothing can alter my purpose. Moreover, 
even if the Russians do come, I would fain hope 
that my hoary locks will be a sufficient safe-guard. 
But whether or not, I have only death to fear 
from them, and 1 trust that God wdll give me 
fortitude to bear what torments soever they may 
be tempted to inflict upon me. Go, then, my 
child 1 where duty calls you—to stay here on my 
account would be utterly useless, but for our 
country you can do something—go, then, in 
God’s name 1” 

“ Oh my mother!” exclaimed Raphael in an 
agitated voice, when, having kissed the vener¬ 
able brow of his aged relative, he bent his knee 
before her, ‘‘ oh my mother! bless me before I 
go, and pray that I may inherit your lofty and 
unwavering virtue 1” 

Placing her hand on Raphael’s head, his 
grand-mother raised her eyes to heaven and 
fervently pronounced her blessing, then; desir- 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


151 


ing him to rise she calmly received and return¬ 
ed his “ farewell,” and saw him depart without 
one symptom of weakness of age. Raphael took 
his place at the head of his armed vassals, and 
set out at a rapid pace for Count Bialewski’s 
castle, around which he was informed that the 
insurrection was going on briskly. The gallant 
old nobleman had retaken possession of his 
dwelling by main force, and it was now the 
head-quarters of the national forces for many 
miles around. Impatient to see once more those 
whom he loved so much and from whom he had 
been so long separated, Raphael travelled at a 
rapid pace. As he approached the immediate 
vicibity of the castle everything began to wear 
a look of life and animation—there were bands 
of the Count’s soldiers passing to and fro sing-" 
ing snatches of patriotic songs; caravans of 
horses and carts bearing provisions and arms; 
on the heiglits were seen sentinels and advanced 
posts; in the hamlets there were recurits going 
through their exercise; while at intervals was 
hoard the firing of musketry announcing that 
insui-gents were engaged in a skirmish with the 
Russians. In the midst of this universal excite¬ 
ment Raphael enters the courtyard, where he 
left his people while he went to seek the,Count. 
A few moments and he was pressed to the 
Count’s heart, and greeted by him as a long- 
absent sou. 

“ Yes, my dear Raphael,” pursued he, “ our 
joy is great, for we were fearfully alarmed on 


152 


THE KNOUT, 


your account, having heard no tidings of you 
since you left us, and our anxiety would have 
been still greater had we not consoled ourselves 
by the thought that the Russians might have 
intercepted your letters, so that you might after 
all, be still alive. But, thanks to the protecting 
power of God, you are come back, and just at 
the same time as Casirair, from whom, I suppose, 
you have heard on your journey hither.’^ 

“ I have not seen him,” said Raphael. 

“ No, but you have heard him, for it was he 
who sustained the firing which we have heard 
for the last half hour or so, and I have just 
learned that a strong Russian detachment which 
had come to reconnoitre the neighbourhood, has 
been repulsed with considerable loss. Alas! I 
much fear,” added the Count with a sigh, that 
all this courage and devotion is destined to be 
in vain. A fatality seems to hang over this de¬ 
voted land which renders nugatory the bravest 
efforts of her sons. It is, nevertheless, true 
that we have accomplished much, very much, 
since I saw you last, and this Lithuania of ours, 
which the Russians had believed crushed and 
spiritless, has stirred herself up and assumed an 
attitude of fearless defiance. But, then, what 
can we .effect, impoverished as we are by a gov¬ 
ernment whose interest it was and is to drain 
and exhaust our resources ? It was imperative¬ 
ly necessary that we should have been support¬ 
ed by the Polish regiments, who, in their turn, 
could do nothing without us. Conceive, then, 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


153 


the blind infatuation of our brethren of Warsaw, 
who, apparently content with having driven the 
enemy from their city, though they ai*e yet 
scarcely masters of their own suburbs, rest 
calmly within their lines, employing all their 
resources, in strengthening their defences, and 
keeping an army of Poles which, with the co¬ 
operation of their provinces, might emancipate 
the country, uselessly employed in marching 
and countermarching and skirmishing around 
the ramparts of Warsaw! Can they be mad 
enough to suppose that without moving from their 
position, they can sustain a regular war with the 
Russian empire ? Surely they cannot be so sil¬ 
ly, so presumptuous! No, their manifest duty 
would have been to throw their army at once 
on Lithuania, and by the aid of the powerful 
reinforcements here awaiting them, make head 
against the Russians beyond the Dnieper. Then 
almost the whole of Poland proper would be 
embarked in the struggle, and our military op¬ 
erations having a basis so extensive would 
command vast supplies of every kind. I repeat, 
this was our only chance of counterbalancing the 
mighty power of Russia — it was the popular 
cry from the Vistula to the Willia. Well! in¬ 
stead of that, here they go on, temporising as 
coolly as possible, stretching out the war by slow 
degrees, and acting just as though they had vast 
provinces in their rear which they waited to 
organise and bring forward to their aid. And 
instead of taking instant advantage of the pub 



154 


THE KNOUT, 


lie enthusiasm so fortunately excited, they stake 
their only chance on the chimerical prospect of 
an Anglo-French intervention in our favor. 
Alas ! they know not that it is victory which 
calls forth the good offices of allies, and that in 
a struggle so unequal as this, negotiation is 
useless if a whole people does not rise with one 
consent and strike a determined blow for free¬ 
dom!” Here the Count paused, and stood silent 
with folded arms, his head bowed down and his 
eyes filled with tears. 

“ But think not, my dear Kaphael,” he re¬ 
sumed, after a short silence, “ that I shall per¬ 
mit these things to discourage me; no I I shall, 
with God’s help, go resolutely forward, though 
I cannot refrain from telling you that I have 
nothing but fears for the result. Ah ! I am now 
sadly convinced that you were right in your 
opinion that Poland is not prepared for such an 
attempt as this.” 

“ And that is still my opinion,” replied Ra¬ 
phael; “ but since I could not get others to 
think as I do, why, I have only to repeat that I 
will follow you to the end, whatever it may be, 
saying with Horace: 

‘‘ Dalce et decorum est pro pairia mori^ 

“Nor must I forget,” cried the Count, with 
reviving animation, “ that it is for mo to give 
you the example.—And now let us seek Rosa, 
from whom I have too long detained you. Ah. 
Raphael! I could scarcely tell jou the admirable 
courage and fortitude which that dear girl has 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


155 


displayed during the last three or four months. 
You have but to recall to your mind the condi¬ 
tion in which you left us, with the difficult task 
before us of rousing the slumbering patriotism 
of the neighborhood. In executing our mission 
we had to brave many dangers, yet was Rosa 
ever at my side, cheering me on by her voice 
and smile, as though death were not hovering 
over every step we took. Nay, there were not 
wanting occasions when, elevated by the fervor 
of patriotism above the little weaknesses of her 
sex, her voice mingled with mine in entx-eating 
the tepid and wavering to come forth on behalf 
of their country. The consequence is that many 
of our good people look upon her as one inspired, 
and venerate her beyond measure. Now her 
attention is entirely given to the wounded and 
the sick, for, unhappily, the cholera fills our 
hospitals with more victims than the arms of the 
Russians. At the present moment we should in 
vain seek her out of the hospital, for an engage¬ 
ment having just taken place, many wounded 
have of course been brought in, and she is at¬ 
tending them with the priest and the surgeon.’^ 

“Ah my dear Count I exclaimed Raphael 
ardently, “ I will endeavor to imitate the heroic 
virtues of our Rosa, and by so doing render my¬ 
self more worthy of her.” 

The Count pressed the hand of his young 
friend in silence, and just then he pointed to 
where Rosa stood, and both hastened to join 
her. She was, as her father had expected, as¬ 
sisting the surgeon to dress the wounds of the 


156 


THE KNOUT, 


patients. At the moment when she perceived 
her father and Raphael she was standing before 
some hand-barrows on which were stretched the 
victims of the recent conflict. Turning quickly 
she came forward to meet her betrothed hus¬ 
band, her beautiful face beaming with joy which 
she sought not to conceal. 

“ God be praised,” said she, “ that you are 
come back to us in safety !—Oh, Raphael, how 
fervently have I prayed for you! But come 
here, and let us put off our congratulations and 
rejoicings to a more fitting opportunity; here 
are some poor men who stand in need of assist¬ 
ance, and we may not think of deserting them 
to indulge our own private feelings I ” 

And so saying, she moved away to help the 
surgeon and his assistants to get the wounded 
men placed in bed, and their wounds washed 
and dressed, Rosa all the time whispering to 
them sweet words of kindness and consolation 
which fell like balm on the hearts of the suf¬ 
ferers. As they listened to her soft, low voice, 
they indeed seemed to forget their pain, while 
she, happy in being able to impart consolation, 
never thought of retiring until she had satisfied 
herself that nothing was left undone that might 
add to their comfort. She then followed her 
father and Raphael, and the remainder of the 
day was passed in the overflowing happiness of 
being again together after weary months of 
separation. 

Next day Raphael, with his own vassals, took 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


157 


an active part in that partisan warfare which 
the Count and his son were so successfully car^ 
rying on. Notwithstanding all the difficulty of 
communicating with each other, and the lament¬ 
able want of unity attending thereon, the chief 
object of all the leaders in Lithuania was the 
deliverance of Wilna, and thitlier all their ener¬ 
gies were bent, while on the other hand it was 
the grand stronghold of the Russians. The 
result was that Count Bialewski’s district, whicli 
lay near the frontiers of the Poland of 1815, 
being full forty leagues from Wilna was not, at 
this juncture, very closely watched by the Rus¬ 
sians who had too much to do and to mind in 
various quarters nearer home. The Count pro¬ 
fited by the opportunity to give the best train¬ 
ing he could to his corps of volunteers. Unfortu¬ 
nately there was a great deficiency of arms, so 
that many brave fellows were rendered useless 
who might have done good service, and what 
damped more than all the courage of those bat¬ 
talions who were armed in one way or another, 
was the total want of that death-dealing artil¬ 
lery with which the Russians were so well pro¬ 
vided, and without which the Poles could never 
venture to attack their enemies on the open 
field. The only hope was the appearance of the 
Polish army which was daily expected, but alas! 
never came. The Count and his friends dis¬ 
played the most indefatigable activity, and the 
most fearless bravery, while seeking to gain 
time, until Poland should arise and assert her 

14 


158 


THE KNOUT, 


rights. At length a detached corps of about 
two thousand five hundred men appeared in 
Wolhynia, but with such a trifling force no¬ 
thing serious could be attempted, and after- 
some desperate eflTorts, this brigade was forced 
to take refuge in Gallicia and give up their 
arms to the Austrian authorities. It was only 
after the defeat of Ostrolenka that a larger body 
of the Polish army, then retreating on Warsaw, 
decided on entering Lithuania, and though this 
opening was certainly under ominous circum¬ 
stances, yet the Count welcomed with joy the 
approach of the army, and prepared to do all 
in his power to sustain and strengthen it. 


CHAPTER XII. 

Three Polish brigades, forming altogether 
about ten thousand men, successively and at 
short intervals, entered Lithuania, having with 
them about thirty pieces of cannon. One of 
these divisions, making its way through the 
vast forest of Bialowiez, arrived within a short 
distance of the Castle, and immediately com¬ 
municated with the Count. The appearance of 
these Polish troops at once revived the flagging 
spirits of the people, and filled them with hope 
and joy. The artillery, above all, was greeted 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


159 


with transport, and it was no uncommon sight 
to see the peasantry crowding around the field- 
pieces, touching them, as though to be certain 
of their reality, and even kissing them with 
cries of joy and exultation. All fear was at an 
end, and victory was sure to rest on the un 
furled flag of Poland. And in truth we can 
scarcely doubt that if the main body of the 
Polish army had sustained this first expedition, 
with the insurrection in Lithuania, where al¬ 
most the entire province was perfectly orga¬ 
nised, the destiny of Poland might have been 
changed and the oppressor driven from her soil. 
But what could be effected by a detached corps, 
when the main body itself, after a murderous 
battle, retreated on Warsaw?-*-With the clear 
and quick perception of a veteran commander 
the Count at once perceived that they were 
again to be disappointed, and his foresight was 
but too soon justified. The brigade which had 
encamped for a short time near his castle, sud¬ 
denly received orders to repair by forced 
marches into Samogitia, where the two corps by 
which it had been preceded had already ob¬ 
tained some success against the Russians. These 
three brigades, when joined together, were to 
have marched on Wilna, and taken it at all 
hazards ; but most unfortunately, - jealousy 
glided in between the three commanders—the 
time for«action passed away in vain contention, 
and when the greatest unanimity was required 
in order to keep the Russians at bay, discord 



THE KNOUT, 


IGO 

and envy were suffered to do their fatal work, 
and the national cause was the sacrifice. The 
enemy at once covered Wilna, easily repulsed 
the ill-concerted attack of the Polish army 
'though to do the Poles justice they fought with 
heroic courage,) and extending his lines he 
drove those demoralized bands before him to 
the Prussian frontier. A number, of the Polish 
soldiers, betrayed and abandoned by their 
chiefs, gave up their arms to the Prussians with 
many a bitter curse ; while another division of 
the army fought on with desperate courage, and 
with loud cries implored their comrades to come 
back over the lines and aid them for the honor 
of Poland, whereupon the latter, disarmed and 
prisoners as they were, were roused with sudden 
fury when they saw their brethren refusing to 
fly, and dying like heroes beneath the over¬ 
whelming blows of the Russians; and snatching 
their arms from the pile where they lay, they 
shook off the grasp of the Prussians, and spring¬ 
ing over the ditch which formed the frontier 
line, they flew to the assistance of their gallant 
brethren. In vain w'oiild their unworthy com¬ 
manders have interposed their authority to re¬ 
strain.them—the greater number heard not a 
word they said, and resolutely preferred death 
to slavery. Some there were, nevertheless, who 
still hesitated, being intimidated by the positive 
prohibition of their officers, and the*menaces 
of the Prussian soldiers. These brave Poles, 
Affio of course regarded discipline as sacred, 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


161 


but N^bose hearts were with their struggling 
companions, conjured their officers with tearful 
eyes to lead them back to the battle. 

Just at'this moment a cavalier was seen to 
break forth from amidst the tumultuous ling 
beyond the frontier, and he was quickly recog¬ 
nised for an aid-de-camp of the commander-in¬ 
chief. Urging his horse to the utmost he quick¬ 
ly joined the prisoners, paused, pistol in hand, 
within twenty paces of the group of renegade 
generals,, and taking aim at the chief amongst 
them, he shot him dead on the spot, with a furious 
malediction.— After this retributive act, the 
whole body of the Poles ranged themselves again 
under their banners and made a desperate at¬ 
tempt to pierce the enemy’s lines, in order to get 
back into Poland. Some days sooner they might 
have succeeded, but as it was the attempt was a 
signal failure. The time lost through the perfidy 
of the generals, and the indecision of the troops, 
had crushed the insurrection, so that after a 
most disastrous retreat, and several severe en¬ 
gagements, when sourrounded by the overpow¬ 
ering number of tho Russians, the poor harras- 
ed Poles, were finally driven to take refuge on 
the inhospitable territory of Prussia. Pour 
thousand infantry, and two thousand cavalry, 
there gave up their arms, together with twenty 
pieces of artillery. Another division consisting 
of two thousand foot, and twelve hundred horse, 
had a little before done the same. Upwards of 
three thousand of tlie insui’gents returned to 

14 * 



THE KNOUT, 




their homes, while some other bands, with per¬ 
severing, but alas! fruitless bravery, took up 
their abode in the woods and marshes whence 
they waged a war of extermination on the ene- 
^ny. TJiere. remained about three thousand of 
the regular army, who, under the command of 
an intrepid officer, determined to make their 
way back into Poland. Now fighting, and anon 
escaping the enemy by skilful manoeuvres they 
had traversed all Lithuania, bending their 
course towards the forest of Bialowiez, where 
they hoped to enjoy a brief respite, being there 
sheltered from all pursuit. It was from this 
heroic band that Count Bialewski received the 
confirmation of the melancholy news which had 
already reached him. 

“ All is over, my dear Count,” said one of 
the principal officers, who was an old friend: 
“ Lithuania is lost to Poland, and Poland her¬ 
self can only now be saved by miracle. The 
Bussians are after us with a superior force, and 
before two hours their van-guard will appear on 
the plain. Resistance would now be useless, 
and your best'course is to follow us to Warsaw 
as soon as you can gather up your most valua¬ 
ble effects.” 

“ DonT you think,” answered the Count, 
that we could keep the enemy for some time 
before the castle, which is now tolerably well 
fortified, so as to cover your retreat ? ” 

“ And do you imagine,” returned the gener¬ 
ous officer, “ that we would consent to leave you 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


163 


exposed to all the vengeful fury of the Russians, 
that we ourselves might escape ? No, rather 
would we remain, that all might perish together. 
But the voice of duty calls us to Warsaw to aid 
our comrades in its defence. Come, then, with 
us, Bialewski! and if any of your^ people will 
follow us, they will render a last service to the 
national cause.’’ 

“ You are right,” said the Count, “ we should 
never yield to despair, and must try our fortune 
while even one chance remains to us.” 

And so saying he quickly entered the castle, 
informed Raphael, Casimir and Rosa of his 
newly-formed resolution ; then bade a kind farjc 
well to the vicar, whom he charged to watch 
over the tenantry whom he so unwillingly left, 
and proceeded to collect together the faithful 
band which had hitherto followed his banners. 

My comrades*! ” said the Count, “ we have 
nothing more to do in Lithuania—the game is 
up with us here, but if the jade Fortune has 
played us false, she has not, thank God, extin¬ 
guished our courage. Let all those then who 
owe her a spite come with me and seek revenge^ 
in Poland proper—remembering always that’ 
you are free either to come or stay. For my¬ 
self, I have resolved to follow these true sons 
of Poland and share their fate whatever it may 
be. Whoever decides on following my example 
will meet me in half an hour at the bivouac on 
the plain.” 

At the time appointed, three or four hundred 
brave and resolute men appeared before the 



164 


THE KNOUT, 


Count, and were immediately admitted into the 
ranks of the soldiers, who received them with 
melancholy satisfaction. The signal for depar¬ 
ture was given, and for- the second time the 
Count bade adieu to the ancient halls of his 
fatliers. And so the column moved on in pro 
found silence, and with a double quick pace, being 
apprehensive of a surprise from the Russians 
who, with vastly superior numbers were con¬ 
stantly nianoeuvering tohem in the devoted little 
army. The Poles were already within a league 
or so of the great forest where they were sure 
of finding a safe refuge—the tops of its tallest 
trees were already visible on the horizon, when, 
in traversing a plain towards a small river, they 
discovered that the Russians were .drawn up on 
the opposite bank to dispute the passage. 

“ Fear nothing, my ladscried the Polish, 
commander, in a loud, cheerful voice, “ it is 
only their van-guard. Forward to the charge, 
and let not a trigger be drawn till you are 
within arm’s length.” 

The Poles advanced with fearless intrepidity; 
one party throwing themselves on the narrow 
bridge which crossed the river, while the others 
sprang into the river, which was fortunately 
fordable, and both together charged the Rus¬ 
sian cavalry with a force which made them reel 
backwards. But the confusion was only mo¬ 
mentary, for they quickly drew up again in good 
order on the plain which the Poles must neces¬ 
sarily cross and sought to obstruct their j)ro- 



A TALE OF rOLAXO. 


166 


gross bj vigorous and repeated charges. The 
Polish regulars, firm as rocks in their places, 
still marched on and made good their way, pre¬ 
senting to the enemy an unbroken ari*ay of 
Dristling bayonets. Unfortunately the Count's 
followers, fully as courageous, but being utterly 
inexperienced in the rude trade of war, could 
not resist the mighty force of the Russian 
cavalry, and though still keeping their ground 
they suffered their ranks to be broken through 
and disorder of course ensued. At the voice of 
the Count a square was formed around Rosa who 
had been thus left in the midst of the confusion. 
Raphael and Casimir threw themselves forward 
drawing after them the bravest of their fol¬ 
lowers—their fearless valor drove back the 
Russian troopers, and thus gave time for their 
people to close up their broken ranks. Yet 
another effort and the enemy fell back still far¬ 
ther, but just as Raphael stretched out his arm 
to prevent Casimir from pursuing them too far, 
he saw him stagger, and received him.in his 
arms. The ill-fated young man made a sign 
that all was over with him, murmured his 
father’s name and expired. A ball had pierced 
his bosom. Raphael could nok.desert the body 
of his friend, and carried it aside, with the as¬ 
sistance of some of his friends, contriving as 
they did so, to conceal their mournful burden 
from the Count, who, on his part, was seeking 
Rosa, believing that she alone was in danger. 
Meanwhile the plain was crossed, the soil be- 


166 


THE KNOUT, 


came rough and uneven, and the Russian 
cavalry, jaded and exhausted, could urge their 
horses no farther. Upon this the Poles quick¬ 
ened their march, reached the forest, and when 
they found themselves safe within its giant en¬ 
closure they embraced and congratulated each 
other with many a joyous acclamation. 

“ But Casimir—where is he?’^ demanded the 
Count, as he fixed Ifis astonished gaze on the 
dejected countenance of Raphael. The latter 
could not speak, but his tears rushed forth un¬ 
bidden. 

“Ha! then my son is dead!” cried the poor 
father, at once catching in the fatal truth. The 
tears—the scalding tears of anguish rolled fast 
from his eyes, and his head sank heavily on his 
bosom; but suppressing his emotion by an effort 
worthy of himself, he pressed his daughter to 
his heart, as though fearful lest she, too, 
might be torn from him; he looked around on 
his sympathising friends, and said in a firm 
voice: 

“ But wherefore'do I weep? Surely my boy 
could not have died a more glorious death. To 
my country, then, do I offer up this sacrifice— 
to my country and my God—may it be one of 
propitiation!” Whereupon he proceeded with 
equal firmness to take the necessary measures 
for having the beloved remains conveyed in 
safety to the spot which he selected for its last 
resting place—for poor Casimir might not lie in 
the tomb of his fathers. Again the march was 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


167 


resumed, and having soon after received a slight 
reinforcement sent bj the commander-iu-chief, 
this remnant of the Polish army once more en¬ 
tered Praga. The Count took his daughter 
immediately to Warsaw, where a sister of his 
late wife resided. Here he gave a few days to 
the indulgence of his heavy sorrow, for though 
the soldier could not openly give way to his 
feelings, yet the heart of 1#lie father was deeply 
wounded by the loss of his only, his brave and 
noble son. But he was soon aroused from his 
lethargy of woe by the stirring importance of 
what was passing around him. It was then the 
middle of August. The Polish army was en¬ 
camped under the walls of Warsaw, and was 
still exceedingly formidable, for though com¬ 
promised at first by the excessive circumspection 
of its chiefs, and seriously weakened by a con¬ 
stant succession of new generals, it was still an 
effective force of 70,000 men. Such was the 
position of the Polish army when 120,00Q Rus¬ 
sians, furnished with four hundred pieces of 
cannon, took up their quarters in the neighbor¬ 
hood, and prepared for a general attack. Mean¬ 
while the city was a prey to anarchy and discord. 
That unhappy people, always suspicious, and 
always divided amongst themselves, slaughtered 
in their prisons either those whom they had 
reason to suspect of being Russian spies, or the 
generals to whom they attributed the failure of 
the revolution. And at a time when the voice 
of their suffering country called them to rally 


168 


THE KNOUT, 


on their ramparts for the defence of the citj^ 
they were found debating in their club-rooms, 
and in the municipal chambers, each putting 
forth his claim to an authority which was now 
but a phantom, and discussing public reforms 
with the hosts of the Czar before their gates, 
ready to pounce on the last remaining hope of 
Poland. Nevertheless there was still one vig¬ 
orous arm to curb these devastating passions, 
and to make at least a dignified preparation for 
the death-agony of the Polish nation, which 
could not be far distant. Count Bialewski, 
seeing the deplorable condition of the city, has¬ 
tened to offer his services to the newly-installed 
governor, who was certainly doing his utmost 
to restore order, and his proposal was thank¬ 
fully accepted. Raphael, with his corps of Li¬ 
thuanian volunteers, joined the ranks of the 
army, and were stationed in one of the principal 
redoubts not far from the gates of the city. 
The army stood prepared for a desperate re 
sistance, and notwithstanding the ■ great ine¬ 
quality of the opposing forces, no true Pole had 
ceased to hope for a favorable result. The field 
marshal in command of the Russian army was 
not blind to the determination of the Poles, and 
having taken good note of their preparations, 
he saw that he could only enter Warsaw by a 
tremendous sacrifice, and, therefore, tried to 
effect a compromise offering to the Polish army 
an honorable capitulation. He promised, in his 
master’s name, a free pardon for the past, pro- 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


169 


mises for the future, together with a redress of 
those grievances which were the immediate 
cause of the rebellion, and an investigation into 
the affairs of certain provinces which were con¬ 
sidered peculiarly ag^’rieved. But as the Poles 
had made up their minds to expiate their nu¬ 
merous faults and errors by a glorious end, they 
would listen to no terms that did not include 
their complete independence, and such was the 
answer officially returned to the Russian com¬ 
mander. Warsaw was surrounded by a double 
belt of fortifications, which would have required 
for their defence a much larger force than they 
could now have, for a body of twenty thousand 
men had been detached from the main army 
•some days before in order to provide a com¬ 
missariat for the city, with orders at the same 
time to turn the enemy’s flank, not more to 
create a serious diversion in tliat quarter than 
to prove that the Poles were still bold enough 
to make an attack. Yet with all these disadvan¬ 
tages, each individual within the city applied 
himself courageously to the performance of his 
duty. 

Amidst all the melancholy bustle of prepara¬ 
tion for the last act of the tragedy, the Count 
and Raphael were greviously anxious about 
Rosa, and fearfully asked each other what was 
to become of her if Warsaw was taken by the 
Russians of which there was, alas! but too much 
probability. Who was to protect her amid the 
horrors likely to be enacted in Warsaw? When 
16 


170 


THE KNOUT, 


the Count repeated to Raphael his terrible ap¬ 
prehensions, the latter was stunned into silence, 
but after some reflection, he found voice to say: 

“ My dear Count! notwithstanding the sad 
scenes going on every where around us, suffer 
me to entreat that the probationary term may 
be abridged, so that I may acquire a legal title 
to become the protector of Rosa. AYere she only 
mine in reality, I could do and dare every thing 
for her, and though the war may wage around, 
she will have a double chance of safety when 
her father and her husband will be near to 
guard her.’^ 

“ I am so thoroughly convinced of your pru¬ 
dence and discretion, my dear Raphael, not to 
speak of your sincere devotion to our interests,- 
that I cheerfnlly approve of your suggestion. 
At any moment I may fall as my poor son Casi- 
mir has done, and I can die contented when I 
leave my daughter such a protector. Come, then, 
let us speak to Rosa on the subject, and if she 
consents, three days hence she shall become 
your wife.” 

Rosa, as she listened to her father’s represen¬ 
tations, appeared deeply moved by the generous 
devotion of Raphael, and when she had heard all, 
she unhesitatingly placed her hand in his, and 
told him that she was perfectly willing to have 
the ceremony performed at whatever time her 
father and he deemed it advisable. Raphael was 
not slow in acting on this gracious permission, 
for the truth was that he could scarcely absent 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


171 


himself even for a short time from his military 
duties, which formed, alas! a sad contrast to 
those which he now so eagerly set about. The 
marriage was to take place (in the most private 
manner) on the 6th of September, at 5 o’clock in 
the morning, when on the eve of that day the 
Russian columns were put in motion, and open¬ 
ed a terrible fire on the Poles, with the hope of 
dividing their ranks, and of enfeebling their 
strength, by forcing them to spread their lines 
farther than they could with safety. The redoubt 
occupied by Raphael and his Lithuanians was 
attacked with the utmost fury, and the shock 
was truly terrific — sixty guns played for sev¬ 
eral hours on that devoted spot, and it was by 
superhuman courage and fortitude that its gal¬ 
lant defenders kept their position, exposed as 
they were to a murderous fall of grape-shot and 
cannon-balls. Yet still they wavered not though 
the foe was evidently advancing for a closer 
and more deadly assault. 

In the meantime, a fierce struggle was going 
on amid the ruins; everywhere the Russians 
prevailed, for they numbered twenty to one, yet 
the Poles, the brave unfortunate Poles, died 
with heroic courage, nor flinched a step until 
they were mowed down like ripe grain in har¬ 
vest. So fiercely and successfully did they deal 
their vengeance that they had soon before them 
a new rampart, composed of the dead bodies of 
their mortal foes. .But, oh, despair I , with all 
their audacity and all their fortitude, they were 


172 


THE KNOUT 


forced to abandon the redoubt and retire within 
the walls, owing to a want of ammunition. It 
was about tw^o o’clock in the afternoon when 
another redoubt, which had been carried bj the 
Russians, blew up with a tremendous explosion, 
a Polish officer having, as he quitted the plaee, 
set fire to a small train of powder, so that the 
victors might be buried under the ruins. Yet 
still the Russians went on, and on, pursuing 
their success with inconceivable rapidity; al¬ 
ready they had gained the heights. which com¬ 
mand the suburbs called Czysta, when on a 
sudden the Polish artillery, directed by a master 
hand, opened upon them a terrific fire; being 
entirely exposed to the dread range of the balls, 
the Russian columns wavered and hesitated, 
and being just then attacked by two battalions 
of Polish infantry they retreated and took 
refuge in the outer line of the fortifications, of 
which they had long since gained possession. 
Both armies being faint and exhausted, it was 
now tacitly agreed to postpone the contest till 
the morrow. During the day, negociations 
were again opened, but nothing decisive could 
be arranged, owing to the diversity of opinion 
amongst the different members of the Executive, 
some of whom were willing to give up a strug¬ 
gle whose end it was easy to foresee, and to 
submit at once, while others declared that they 
would die sword in hand, resisting to the last 
an unjust and lawless oppression. 

It was during this short armisBce that Ra- 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


173 


pliael stole away from his post to kneel with 
Rosa before the altar. A gloom like that of 
death overhung the devoted city.—Scarcely 
tinic had they to say farewell after the ceremony 
was concluded, for even the tocsin pealed, and 
the drum beat to arms, and Raphael could only 
exclaim as he pressed Rosa to his heart in a 
first embrace:— 

“Now, I have acquired the right to die in 
your defence. Oh I that I may be enabled to 
save you, and life itself will be but a poor 
sacrifice.’’ 

“ And I,” murmured Rosa, as her tears fell 
fast on the bosom of her husband, “ and I, Ra¬ 
phael, am now entitled to share the dangers and 
the trials of your future life, and be sure, my 
beloved, that you will never find me shrink 
from danger or from suffering when it is to be 
met by your side.” The moments were pressing, 
and having again bade farewell to his drooping 
bride, Raphael hastened away to resume his 
post, while the Count returned to his place in 
the council, where the fate of Warsaw was then 
under discussion. 

The squares were filled with the panic- 
stricken inhabitants, who were discussing in 
low tones the mournful news of the day. All 
those who were ableTo carry arms hastened to 
the ramparts, and to the different outlets of the 
city. Women and children toiled away at the 
barricades, and in preparing cartridges for the 
soldiers and wadding for the guns. Hour after 


174 the knout, 

hour long trains of carts arrived with the 
wounded, and each fresh arrival was greeted 
with mournful cries and lamentations. The 
truce having expired ere yet the council had 
reached any satisfactory conclusion, the cannon¬ 
ading was again heard, “ and the discharge in¬ 
cessantly poured out by three liundred and fifty 
fiery mouths,” says one of the writers from 
whom we have borrowed our historical facts, 
“ caused the earth to tremble for miles around.” 
And this went on without a single pause from 
one o’clock in the afternoon till the darkness of 
night closed in. In the very midst of the 
frightful carnage and the increasing conflagra¬ 
tion of the now ruined suburb of Cyzsta, Ra¬ 
phael was still seen, by the light of the flames, 
urging on his brave followers, though himself 
bleeding from many a wound, and enfeebled 
from loss of blood; nor could he be prevailed 
upon to retire while yet one lingering hope re¬ 
mained. But vain—all vain—this heroic valor, 
and vain the unexampled devotion of the gal¬ 
lant few who still held out, for even then the 
Russians were entering the doomed city in ruth¬ 
less triumph, and Poland—poor, unfortunate 
Poland—was again at the mercy of her deadly 
enemies. 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


175 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Notwithstanding the sublime efforts of her 
defenders, Warsaw was just about to become the 
prey of the Russians, when the government, in 
opposition to the legislative assembly which was 
then sitting, took upon itself to order a cessation 
of arms, and commanded the retreat of the Pol¬ 
ish battalions. Twenty thousand Russians, be¬ 
tween killed and wounded, lay on the field, a 
striking and fearful proof that the victory had 
been dearly earned. And the Polish armj^, 
conquered as it was, gave the Russians serious 
alarm, so that dreading their vengeance, should 
they be driven to despair, the victors gave 
them permission to depart with their arms and 
baggage. Twenty thousand of the bravest and 
best of the sons of Poland, availing themselves 
of these favorable terms, marched that day from 
the gates of that city they* had gallantly, but 
vainly, defended, and bearing with them eighty 
pieces of cannon, they took their way towards 
the fortress of Modlin, hoping to rally around 
them some scattered Polish corps which would 
have made them, as they calculated about sixty 
thousand strong. But the timidity of the offi¬ 
cers of those detachments destroyed this reason¬ 
able hope and the main body thus left to its own 


176 


THE KNOUT, 


resources, wandered about sometime longer 
without end or aim. 

The Capitol being lost, and each one consi¬ 
dering that the national cause was definitively 
ruined, it was generally thought that the army 
would very soon make a formal submission to the 
Russian Government. Raphael, though serving 
only as a volunteer, could not think of desert¬ 
ing the national banner while yet it was un¬ 
furled, and therefore thought himself obliged 
to accompany the army, having merely found 
time to say farewell to the Count and Rosa, and 
to tell them that he hoped for a speedy return as 
the army must soon be broken up. But, alas ! 
for that gallant army, having no commander of 
sufficient energy to mark out a course of action 
and see it executed, the troops were left en¬ 
tirely to their own guidance, and when the first 
effects of their disappointment had somewhat 
passed away a violent reaction succeeded, and 
wdiile it lasted, some were of the opinion that 
they should march back to Warsaw and make 
an attempt to recover it by a surprise; while 
others strenuously’ advised that they should 
clear a passage for themselves to Lithuania, re¬ 
vive the insurrection in that province, and sus¬ 
tain a defensive war, while a third class insisted 
that the mountains of Cracow afforded the only 
and best rainparts for a protracted resistance. 
But none of these plans was adopted, and, after 
much fruitless parleying with the Russian com¬ 
mander, the Poles, closely pressed upon and bar- 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


177 


passed by the enemy’s squadrons, gained the 
western frontier, and after some slight skirmish¬ 
ing with the enemy in order to secure their 
retreat, they took refuge in the Prussian do¬ 
minions. There they were, of course, compelled 
to lay down their arms, and comdemned them¬ 
selves to a voluntary exile, but they had, at least, 
escaped the hated yoke of the Czar. At the 
moment when they crossed the frontier, the Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the Polish army addressed 
to all Europe these noble and touching words : 

“ Ere yet it bids adieu to its native land—to 
that beloved soil watered with the tears and the 
blood of her sons—the Polish army declares 
before God and the entire world that each in¬ 
dividual Pole is as deeply impressed as he ever 
was with the sanctity and justice of his country’s 
cause. We, moreover, consider ourselves bound 
to make this solemn appeal to the nations, and 
to the rulers of the civilized world, but in a 
more especial manner to those governments who, 
at the Congress of Vienna, displayed a peculiar 
interest in the cause of Poland. Confiding to 
them the destiny and, in fact, the political exist¬ 
ence of that nation, ever unfortunate but never 
subdued—of a nation which is called, as we 
know and feel, to exercise a strong influence 
over the civilization, the equilibrium and the 
peace of Europe. The Greeks, the Belgians, 
and other nations have been in turn objects 
of solicitude to the great Powers. Shall the 
Poles alone be left to struggle unaided and un- 



178 


THE KNOUT, 


pitied ? No; forbid it the majesty and the 
justice of kings! 

“ To you, then, powers of the earth; to you, 
and to the sympathy of your subjects, does the 
national army of Poland address itself in this 
hour of affliction, conjuring you, in the name 
of the most high God, in the name of humanity, 
and the inalienable rights of man, to take those 
liberties for which we have battled in vain 
under your protection, and to see that justice 
may preside at the new arrangements which will 
soon be made for our bleeding country. Be as¬ 
sured, that even yourselves are interested in 
securing the rights of Poland, so as to arrange 
with precision the balance of power in Europe. 
By restoring our drooping and long suffering 
nation to independence and prosperity you will 
necessarily promote the general good, for 
Europe is, and ought to be, but one great family, 
and that which promotes the well-fcing of one 
nation or member of the confederacy, ought 
more or less to benefit all.^' 

“ On the Prussian frontier, this 4th day- of 
October, 1831.’^ 

The commander-in-chief, notwithstanding 
that the hardships and privations of a penniless 
exile stared him in the face, as it did almost 
every individual of the army, yet made it a 
point to remit to the Bank of Poland a con 
siderable sum which he had drawn thence for 
the immediate wants of the army, at his depar¬ 
ture from Warsaw; the funds belonging to the 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


179 


minister of war were also remitted in full. 
Thirty thousand Poles then passed into Prussia, 
a similar number having already taken refuge 
in Gallicia. A sort of amnesty was then pro¬ 
posed to the privates and non-commissioned of¬ 
ficers, who would have refused and remained in 
exile rather than give themselves up again to 
the Russians, but this the Prussian authorities, 
would not permit, and they were driven once 
more into the power of their implacable foe. 
No sooner were they .again on their native soil 
than they were laid hold of and drafted off* to 
Russia proper where they were speedily incor¬ 
porated into Muscovite regiments. The com¬ 
missioned officers of every grade, being still 
menaced with the vengeance of the Czar, tra¬ 
versed Germany amid the loudest expressions 
of public sympathy, and entered France, where 
they were received with generous hospitality. 

Raphael, as we have said, was obliged to fol¬ 
low the.fortunes of the army, and was thus 
effectually separated from Rosa and her father. 
With his heart torn by the most fearful anxiety 
on their account, and his health rapidly under¬ 
mined by the weakness attending upon his 
numerous wounds, he was but ill able to en¬ 
counter the harassing fatigue of that long, 
toilsome march, and he had no sooner attained 
a place of safety beyond the frontier than he 
was attacked by a fever so violent that for some 
days his life was in danger, and for months 
long its effects were felt in an utter prostration 



IBO 


THE KNOUT, 


of strength, accompanied by a dull, heavy Ian- 
g-uor. Not a word could he hear of those 
beloved ones now so far distant, while every 
day his mind was tortured by the pitiable news 
from Poland. 

But now, let us return to the Count and Ra- 
phaohs young bride, that we may see how it 
fared with them during this long and dreary 
interval. At the moment when the Russians 
entered Warsaw (on the 8th of September,) the 
Count, who had till then given all his time and 
attention to the defence of the city, suddenly 
appeared before his daughter, and even he, that 
gallant veteran, shuddered as he thought of the 
impending danger. 

“What is become of Raphael?'^ demanded 
Rosa, when she perceived that her father was 
alone. 

“ Raphael is safe and well,'^ returned the 
Count, “ but he is retained by honor and duty 
in the ranks of the army, which has made its 
retreat in good order, and will soon obtain ad¬ 
vantageous terms (at least, I hope so,) as the 
price of its submission. Fifty or sixty thou¬ 
sand Poles under arms may yet draw together, 
and the enemy has good reason to fear the des¬ 
pair of our soldiers. Thanks to this fortu¬ 
nate circumstance, we may yet hope that the 
reaction will be less dreadful than we had anti-, 
cipated, and we have already the held-marshaPs 
assurance that an amnesty will be offered to all 
those who in three days after its publication, 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


181 


will submit to the Imperial authority. Be of 
good heart, then, my child ! for the next capitu¬ 
lation of the army will bring Raphael back 
again to us, and then we can patiently resign 
ourselves to the decrees of Providence, while 
looking forward to the coming of happier days.” 

‘‘ May God, in his boundless mercy, restore 
him* to us, and then I can bear every thing.” 
And as Rosa spoke, she repressed, by a vig¬ 
orous effort, the tears which were ready to 
burst forth. “ But, do you think, father, that 
we can reckon on this amnesty ?” 

“ I do,” replied the Count, “ and that because 
it is a stroke of policy rather than an act of 
mercy. If the marshal had made this promise 
previous to the surrender of the city,-I might 
have regarded it simply as a bait; but it is 
since he entered Warsaw that he gave us this 
assurance, and hence I, for my part, have every 
confidence in its truth.” 

However plausible were these reasons, it is 
certain that the Count, in order to re-assure his - 
daughter,, expressed a greater degree of confi¬ 
dence in this promise than he really felt. The 
first and second day after the reduction of War¬ 
saw passed away without any appearance that 
could shake the public faith in these assurances 
of'the Russian marshal. The Russians were in 
calm possession of the city, and from their strict 
and formal observance of military discipline, 
luliy justify that sad and celebrated bulletin of 


16 



182 


THE KNOUT, 


tlie French government—“ Order reigns in 
Warsaw.” 

On the third day the act of amnesty was, in¬ 
deed, proclaimed in favor of all who should 
come forward and make submission to the gov¬ 
ernment. The Count was preparing to take 
this painful step, when one of his friends, who 
was a member of the chamber of deputies, 
iiastily made his appearance and informed him 
of the arrest of one of^liis colleagues. Count 
Xavier Subatyn, which took place at the mo¬ 
ment when he presented himself to obtain the 
benefit of the amnesty. 

“ So much for the honor and good faith of 
the Russians ! ” added the deputy as .he retired, 
“ and I would beg of you, my dear Count, to 
make your escape if you possibly can, or, at 
least, to keep yourself concealed.” 

“ My dear father! ” cried Rosa, who was 
greatly shocked by what she had heard, “ you 
must instantly avail yourself of this friendly 
warning, and endeavor to elude the vengeance 
of these Russians.” 

“ If it were not for you, my dear child ! I 
would most willingly brave it. Every blow 
would redound to my honor and to their own 
disgrace, and I would have the satisfaction 
of dying for my country since I could not save 
her,” 

‘‘No, rather preserve yourself for her and for 
your children, my brother! ” said his sister-in- 
law, “ for such is your bounden duty. Rosa 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


183 


shall remain with me till the storm is past and 
Raphael and yourself may with safety rejoin 
us.^’ 

“ Yes, fly, fly, my father! ” exclaimed Rosa 
earnestly, “the army cannot be far away, so 
that you may speedily join Raphael, and it will 
be so consoling for me to know that you are 
together. For us, we are in no danger, for 
surely even the Russians must respect our sex.’’ 

“ For your sake, Rosa,” replied the Count, 
“ I will hide this aged head. But it must be 
within the city, as to leave it now would be 
utterly impossible. The sentinels are every¬ 
where on the alert—there is not a gate or ah 
outlet unguarded, and to attempt an escape 
would be certain death.” 

“ We must then conceal you somewhere in 
the city,” observed his sister-in-law, “ and' that 
will be no HifiScult task to me who am so wmll 
known in Warsaw. It is, however, absolutely 
necessary for us to make a prudent choice as 
every house will be open to the inspection of 
the Russian police.” 

“If you knew, my dear aunt,” said Rosa, 
“ any house of business where my father could 
be received in disguise, and pass for an assistant 
or accountant. No- one would ever dream of 
looking for Count Bialewski under such a guise, 
and in a case of this kind the most preposterous 
plan is sure to be the most successful.” 

“ You have just brought a capital idea to my 
mind, my dear Rosa! ” exclaimed her aunt, 


184 


THE KNOUT, 


there is a gardener somewhere in these suburbs 
to whose care I can entrust my brother’s safety. 
He is a trusty patriot who has served his coun¬ 
try on many a hard-contested field, so that 1 
have every confidence in him, and I am quite 
sure that he will be overjoyed to receive the 
Count as a workman (provided it will be the 
means of saving him) while at the same time he 
will never for a moment lose sight of the respect 
due to him.” 

The Count listened to these kind projects 
with a reluctance he could not conceal, but there 
was no such thing as resisting the united entrea¬ 
ties of Rosa and her aunt, and he was forced to 
accede to their wishes. Having put on the 
usual attire of a laborer (procured for him by 
the servants) he took under his arm some gar¬ 
dening tools, and walked unmolested through 
the streets to the house of the worthy gardener, 
who, on learning who he was, received him with 
the utmost respect, and with many protestations 
of entire devotion. A few hours after the 
Count’s departure, a Russian officer entered the 
house he had left, followed by several soldiers, 
and demanded to speak with Count Bialewski, 
whereupon the lady of the house appeared. 

“ Madam I ” said the officer, “ I have received 
orders to secure the Count, and as all the outer 
doors and passages of the house are guarded it 
would be useless to attempt keeping him con¬ 
cealed from us, since he cannot escape.” 

“ Sir, all the inner doors of this house shall 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


185 


be immediately thrown open for we have no 
cause to shrink from your investigation. But 
suffer me to tell you that you will search in 
vain, for Count Bialewski is not hero.” 

The officer seemed a good deal disappointed 
by the assured manner in which'the lady spoke 
these words; nevertheless, he proceeded to 
search the house (though preserving a show of 
politeness) questioning closely eveiy individual 
he met. To Bosa he addressed himself more 
particularly, questioning and cross-questioning 
her with the hope of eliciting some hint as to 
the retreat of the Count. But Bosa met and 
baffled all his inquiries with singular presence 
of mind, and at last the officer witlidrew to re¬ 
port his want of success. No sooner was he 
gone than Bosa and her aunt threw themselves 
into each other’s arms, weeping with joy that 
the Count had taken their advice and escaped 
in time, though they still trembled with appre¬ 
hension for his safety. From time to time they 
sent out messengers through the city to find out 
what was passing; but though they heard no¬ 
thing that immediately concerned themselves or 
those they loved, yet they were grieved and 
even horrified by the accounts of the merciless 
punishment hourly inflicted on their fellow-citi¬ 
zens in direct disregard of the published am- 
n'esty. Towards evening they W'ere startled by 
the intelligence that the house was again sur¬ 
rounded by Bussian troops. 

“Let us recommend ourselves to God, my 
16 * 


. 186 


THE KNOUT, 


dear aunt,” ^id Rosa, ‘‘ for assuredly some new 
misfortune awaits us.” She had scarcely spo¬ 
ken, when the same officer made his appear¬ 
ance. 

“ Madam!” said he, in a tone that savored of 
kindness and compassion, “ I regret that it be¬ 
comes my duty to arrest the daughter of Count 
Bialewski, and conduct her to the castle.”. 

“ My niece I—oh, heavens I is it possible ?” 

“ I think I am justified in informing you, 
Madam,” stammered the officer, in evident em¬ 
barrassment, “that the young lady will have 
but to answer a few questions before the mili¬ 
tary commission, and will then be restored to 
liberty.” 

“ I am fully aware, sir, that you are not lo 
be turned from the execution of the orders you 
have receiv^ed; but you will assuredly permit 
me to accompany my niece—I am responsible 
to her family for her safety while under my 
care, and I would wish to be near her in that 
fearful trial, that I may keep up her fainting 
courage.” 

“ Mada;n! as I have no orders to that effect, 
1 am compelled to refuse your request.” 

“ In that case, my dearest aunt,” said Rosa, 
in firm accents, “ you have but to keep up your 
spirits as well as you can in my absence, and be 
assured that nothing shall be forced from me by 
intimidation. Pray for me, then, it is all you 
can do—pray that strength may be given "me 
from above.” 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


187 


Having tenderly embraced her aunt, she fol¬ 
lowed the officer from the room, and from the 
liouse, amid the tears and sobs of the assembled 
domestics. A carriage was waiting at the gate, 
into which Rosa was handed by the officer, for 
the authorities dared not take her through the 
streets on foot, justly fearing that such a sight 
would have roused the people to madness. 
The carriage stopped before the gates of the 
castle, once the residence of Poland’s kings, and 
more recently the seat of the legislative body, 
but now entirely occupied by Russian soldiers— 
a barrack for them, and a prison for the patriot 
sons of Poland. Rosa followed her conductor 
into a large hall, where five or six officers of 
high rank were seated around a table, covered 
with papers. She took a seat, on the invitation 
of the president of the commission, and then 
calmly awaited the commencement of the ex¬ 
amination. The judges took a rapid survey of 
her face. and figure, and it was evident that 
they could not help admiring her very uncom¬ 
mon beauty, together with a lofty dignity 
seldom seen in one sO' young, and each in turn 
averted his gaze when he met the calm, soft eye 
of Rosa. 

“ We see before us, do we not, the daughter 
of Count Bialewski?” said the president, at 
length. 

“ The same, my lord.’’ 

“ Your father, young lady, was yesterday 
within the city of Warsaw. How is it, then. 



188 


THE KXOUT, 


tliat he has refused to acknowledge the impe¬ 
rial authority by coming -forward to avail 
himself of the act of amnesty ?—assuredly the 
Count must have known himself undeserving 
of pardon when he chose rather to seek safety 
in flight.” , 

“ My lord! my father was quite willing to 
present himself before you, for his noble nature 
was never prone to suspect the good faith of 
others; but, having been warned of the fate 
awaiting all those who came forward to obtain 
the benefit of the so-called amnesty, he at length 
yielded to my pressing entreaties, and, as you 
say, sought safety in flight.'’ 

“ So you confess that you did connive at his 
escape. Mademoiselle?” demanded the president 
in a severe tone. 

“ How could I make you believe, even if I 
sought to do so, that a daughter would look 
coldly on her father’s imminent danger?” 

“ Lady, you have yet to learn that the rights 
of the Emperor are far above those of a father. 
From the moment when Count Bialewski was 
called to render an account of his conduct before 
the representative of our gracious sovereign, to 
turn him aside in any way from the performance 
of that imperious duty was a grievous wrong — 
nay, a crime.” 

“ I have only to say,” replied Rosa with vir¬ 
tuous indignation, “ that 1 have been brought up 
in a different way of thinking.” 

“ Oh certainly,” returned the president with 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


189 


cutting irony, “ we all know tlie sentiments 
which the worthy Count was likely to instil in¬ 
to the minds of his children. He that Was ever 
on the watch to foment rebellion could not be 
expected to preach loyalty to others.’’ 

“ Count Bialewski has ever taught his child¬ 
ren to be true and faithful to their God, their 
country, and their honor.” 

“Enough, young lady I it is not for you to 
bandy words with your judges.” 

“ I should be truly sorry to be found deficient 
in the respect due to your high station, gentle¬ 
men I ” replied Rosa with admirable composure, 
“ but nothing in this world — no earthly pres¬ 
ence — could deter me from defending the rep¬ 
utation of my father! ” 

“Beware what you say,” said one of the other 
members of the commission, who evidently took 
an interest in Rosa, “ your words may be taken 
as justifying treason I ” 

“ Treason ! ” she replied with emphasis, “no, 
treason pursues a different course, and sacrifices 
neither repose, nor fortune, nor blood. Pursuing 
ever his own poor aggrandisement, the traitor 
works only deeds of darkness and infamy — far 
different was the course adopted by my father.” 

“He who raises his arm against his sov-ereign 
is a traitor!” resumed the president quickly. 

“Against his lawful sovereign, my lord! — 
there I quite agree with you.” 

“ This goes beyond all bounds !” cried the 
president with rising fury. “ Do you then dare 



190 


THE KNOUT, 


to deny the authority of the Emperor V' Rosa 
was silent. 

“ Now, lady ! the matter Is just this—I am 
not at all surprised by your frankness, and it is, 
after all, more pleasing than hypocrisy, even 
though it does let us see your political opinions 
in all their naked deformity. Pass we over this, 
then, and let us return to the primary cause of 
your arrest. Your father cannot have escaped 
from the city—of that we are convinced—and 
there is every probability that the place of his 
retreat will not be long unknown to us. IVill 
you, therefore, prevail upon him to appear be¬ 
fore us ? Such an act of submission on his part 
would gain the Emperor’s favour, and, moreover, 
place you beyond all danger 

“ How ! would you ask me to deliver up my 
father to you ?” Rosa exclaimed, with a look of 
contempt which she could not repress. “ Are 
you not aware that you address a Christian 
daughter 

“ Consider what I have told you. Mademoi¬ 
selle! that the rights of his Imperial Majesty 
go beyond every other I We have means, too, 
for forcing obdurate criminals to confess—be 
ware, I charge you I” 

“ Oh no ! my lord!” replied Rosa with a celes¬ 
tial smile of triumph, “you have no means that 
can force from me aught that may prejudice my 
father.” 

“ And is this your final decision, young lady ?” 
Rosa made a gesture of assent. 



TALE OF POLAND. 


191 


“.Well, then, you shall go to prison, and if the 
reflections of to-night do not. alter your deci¬ 
sion, to-morrow you shall undergo the ignomin¬ 
ious torture of the knout. The lash will per¬ 
haps force you to open your obstinate mouth ?” 

“ Ohj my God!” cried Rosa, as they led her 
away, “ Thou thyself hast been cruelly scourged, 
and shall I shrink from following in thy blood 
stained traces?” 


CHAPTER XIY. 

The chamber to which Rosa was conducted 
was situated in^the upper story of the castle, 
and its furniture consisted of one chair and a 
wretched bed on which a truss or two of straw 
had been recently shaken. One small, grated 
window looked out on the gardens and on the 
Vistula, whose broad basin lay still and calm 
in the bright moonlight. No sooner was Rosa 
left alone than she threw herself on her knees 
and fervently invoked the divine protection for 
herself and those she loved—asking not that 
the impending trials and dangers might be 
averted from her, but that strength might be 
given her to meet and support them with Chris¬ 
tian fortitude. When she arose she found her- 



192 


THE KNOUT, 


self calm and resigned, and, throwing all her 
anxious care for her father and Raphael into the 
hands of God, she applied herself energeticall/ 
to prepare her mind for the mental and bodily 
torture she was so soon to undergo. Far from 
seeking to banish the thoughts of what awaited 
her, from the vain fear of shaking her courage, 
she resolutely considered all the revolting de¬ 
tails of that fearful punishment, and placing her 
trust in tlie Giver of all strength, she began 
even to feel a sort of supernatural triumph in 
the greatness of the torments to which she was 
doomed, and which might obtain for her the 
crown of martyrdom. It is a fact which no 
historian pretends to dispute that in all the 
revolutions a-.d struggles of Poland, the na¬ 
tional mind was strongly tinctured with religi¬ 
ous feeling. And this is easily accounted for, 
in that a nation so pre-eminently Catholic as 
Poland ever was, must naturally feel herself 
wronged by the dark and hypocritical policy 
which sought to turn her by one blow from the 
cherished faith of her bothers, and plunge her 
into the mire of schism, at the same time that 
it deprived her of her political rights. Amongst 
a religious people, questions of a religious na¬ 
ture are not confined to the learned, nor to any 
other class, they penetrate into all ranks, and 
affect, more or less, every individual, giving 
resistless power to the sinewy arm of the 
soldier, and lighting up the flame of enthusias¬ 
tic devotion in tlie gentle heart of woman. 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


193 


Hence it was that Rosa, in the consciousness of 
right, and relying on the protecting arm of 
God, could bid defiance to every torture which 
the oppressor might inflict upon her. She had 
long been accustomed, too, to overcome those 
vain terrors which exhaust the strength of the 
soul ere yet the hour of danger comes, and 
now she looked forward, with immovable 
resignation, to the hour of torture, believing 
that God himself for whose sake she was wil¬ 
ling to bear it, would be near to support her 
in her agony. She sat down on the side of her 
straw couch, and with her eyes raised to hea¬ 
ven and her hands clasped together, she prayed 
once more for those beloved ones, that the 
anguish which, they might endure on her ac¬ 
count would be softened unto them. And thus 
she sank into a gentle slumber from which she 
did not awake till the sun shone into her miser¬ 
able chamber. 

Suddenly there came a deafening crash—the 
loud roll of the drum and the shrill music of 
the fifes and bugles, and Rosa was painfully re¬ 
called to the mighty power of those who held 
her country and herself in bondage. A few 
hours after sunrise her door was opened by a 
soldier, who placed on the shelf near her a 
piece of brown bread and a pitcher of water, 
and then silently withdrew, not without throw 
ing a look of wonder on the fair and noble 
prisoner whom he had been appointed to guard. 
Rosa at first paid but little attention to the 


194 


THE KNOUT, 


breakfast which had been provided for her, but 
after an hour or two she began to feel faint 
from her long fast, and appro.aching the shelf, 
she broke with some difficulty a piece of the 
bread, and eat it, without any repining over its 
hardness and coarseness. She was just endeav¬ 
oring to raise to her lips the heavy pitcher of 
water, when the door again opened, and she 
beheld a tall figure, clad in the extreme of 
fashion, which personage stood as though trans¬ 
fixed to the threshhold by astonishment. What 
was Rosa’s surprise when she recognised Ra¬ 
phael’s worthless rival, Stanislaus Dewello I 

“ Mademoiselle!” said he, in a voice of deep 
emotion, “ Will you permit an old friend to offer 
his services in effecting your liberation from 
this dismal prison ?” 

“My lord!” replied Rosa, with frigid polite¬ 
ness, “ I can scarcely express the painful 
embarrassment arising* from your' presence. 
Forgetfulness, it seems to me, was all that you 
could hope from us !” 

“You are severe, Mademoiselle, and seem to 
condemn too harshly the resentment which, as a 
man of honor, wronged and insulted, I could 
not avoid showing.” 

“ I know not what you consider a wrong or 
an insult, my lord! nor do I desire to know" for 
I shall certainly consider as an insult offered to 
myself, any allusion of yours to the past. But 
one thing is quite clear to me, and that is, that 
all private resentments and individual interests 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


195 


should be forgotten in the commofi interests of 
our country—of 4hat country whom all her 
children are imperatively bound to serve.” 

And who told you that I have abandoned the' 
cause of my country, or how know you but I 
may at this very juncture be endeavouring to 
raise it from its cruel prostration? Yet on 
these points you should have been morally 
certain before you ventured to accuse me of 
tieason.” 

“ I—I accuse no one, my lord ! and I am al¬ 
ways happy to hear that any one is more deserv¬ 
ing of esteem than I had been led to believe.” 

On hearing this, Stanislaus eagerly attempted 
to justify himself for the course he had taken, 
but as he proceeded he became sensible that 
though the passions, when they obtain the mas¬ 
tery, easily persuade their victim that all they 
urge him to do is right, and perfectly justifiable, 
yet it is not so easy to impose on pure and up¬ 
right minds, who are the true judges of what is 
honorable. Moreover, as he went on endeavor¬ 
ing to explain what he called his recent coldness 
und reserve towards the great cause of which 
he had once been one of the boldest partisans, 
he began to understand how deplorably he had 
failed in the hour of danger and of trial. Alas! 
even at the hour when poor bleeding Poland 
lay writhing under the vengeful lash of her 
remorseless tyrant, had he not made common 
cause wdth the Russians ? Had he not stooped 
to become the mean, interested sycophant of the 


196 


THE KNOUT, 


government, ^nd had -not many a substantial 
favor rewarded his shameful alliance with the 
enemy of his country ? Yes, all that was true, 
and yet, strangely enough, Stanislaus had fallen 
so very low almost without being sensible of 
his fall. Firley, that accomplished spy, had 
skilfully probed and embittered the deep wounds 
of his master’s proud heart. He had easily per¬ 
suaded him to remain inactive when it appeared 
to gratify his revenge, and this neutrality, at 
such a trying moment had not failed to ingra¬ 
tiate the Russian authorities, who, ever skilful 
and ready to lay hold on any offered advantage, 
very soon bestowed on the renegade noble the 
most substantial marks of their approbation. 
They then proceeded* to insinuate that he could 
make himself exceedingly useful in tranquili- 
zing the country, and flattered his pride by some 
commissions wearing a very plausible exterior. 
On the other hand, that love of show and of 
pleasure, was fully gratified by those who well 
understood his flimsy character, and this went 
far to blind him to the consequences, leading 
him on headlong towards downright treachery. 
—‘He entered Warsaw, then, with the Russians 
who were very willing to have, if possible, some 
Polish deserters through whom they might sub¬ 
sequently carry on the government with more 
ease, availing themselves of the secrets which 
these men might be able to unfold.—Stanislaus 
had heard in rapid succession of Raphael’s de¬ 
parture with his regiment, the expected arrest 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


197 


of the Count, and finally: the imprisonment and 
condemnation of Rosa. His ever lively imagi¬ 
nation had at once represented to him that now 
was the time to recover the esteem of those 
whom he had so completely given up. He knew 
nothing of the secret marriage, and believed 
that if he could once effect Rosa’s liberation, 
and obtain a full pardon for the Count, he might 
still carry out his favorite scheme of a marriage 
with Rosa. Full of these ronjantic ideas he 
had presented himself before Rosa; but the 
unbending rectitude of that- young girl—the 
dignity of her mien, and the irresistible influ¬ 
ence of her noble language, soon brought him 
down from the ideal height on which he had 
placed himself, and showed him all the depravity 
and the degradation into which he had fallen.— 
Overwhelmed with confusion, and stung with 
secret remorse, his frivolous mind sought to 
find an excuse in the mighty power of despair¬ 
ing love. 

“ And is it, then, you,” he exclaimed, “ who 
reproach me with my errors ? While with you, 
I lived irreproachable and honored, and it is 
<pnly the racking sense of having lost you that 
has plunged me into this abyss whose horrors 
you so well describe I Is it then you who cast 
me off with disdain?” 

“ Nay, my lord.” returned Rosa, her beautiful 
features wearing an expression of mingled pity 
and reserve, “ I pity the guilty much more than 
I deapise them; but I do not think it at all right 

17 * 


198 


THE KNOUT. 


that they should attempt to justify conduct 
which admits of no palliation.’’ 

“ Well! even at the risk of crowning my of¬ 
fences,” resumed Stanislaus, “ I must and shall 
explain the purpose of my visit. Without taking 
much trouble to think over the causes which di¬ 
vided us, I began to think that in the evil days 
on which we have fallen, those petty causes might 
be mutually forgotten,, and our hearts drawn to¬ 
gether. Even if I admit the faults wherewith 
you reproach me, I have dared to hope that I 
can expiate them by my entire devotion to the 
interests of your family, and that I may, to a 
certain extent, be instrumental in healing the 
wounds of our country. I can secure life and 
fortune to' your father, and, of course, your own 
immediate liberation. In mercy, then, do not 
again discourage those hopes which you see I 
cannot renounce; toll me, at least, that you will 
take an interest in the efforts which I shall make 
to regain your good opinion, and that one day 
or another-” 

“You have said enough, my lord! ” interrupt¬ 
ed Rosa, with unusual vivacity, “ but you your¬ 
self do not know how offensive is this discoursed 
to me, I am married, and Raphael is my hus¬ 
band ? ” 

Stanislaus stood rooted to the spot, and the 
words which he had been about to utter, sudden¬ 
ly expired on his trembling lips. He had had 
but a moment of repentance — he had discovered 
the extent of his degradation, and had hoped to 




A TALE OP POLAND. 


199 


recover himself, not a generous sacrifice, but 
like all enervated and debased souls, by making 
conditions which would have ensured for him a 
sufficient compensation. But now his offers could 
not be accepted; he had humbled himself for 
nothing, and his passions, painfully curbed for a 
brief space, now sprang up again with violence, 
even as dry wood shoots upward and bursts in- 
to'splinters after having been restrained by even 
a passing pressure. 

“ Madame ! ” said he, at length, with bitter 
irony, “ you have then no need of my services, 
and I regret having troubled you as I did. You 
are now sure of protection, which will doubtless 
shield you from every danger, and I wish you 
much joy of your security. Do not fear any 
further importunity from me on any subject. 
Farewell, Madame! 

And away he went, onee more in a frame of 
mind that fitted him for all and every thing, no 
matter how vile or base, so that he might 
gratify his revenge. .Firley, who awaited him 
without, speedily availed himself of these good 
dispositions, and turned them, as he did every¬ 
thing, to his own^ account. • As to Bosa, so 
great was her joy and thankfulness to get rid 
of her troublesome visitor, that for a little while 
her miserable chamber seemed a quiet and se¬ 
cure retreat; now she could almost fancy that 
she had been restored to liberty.^’ 

“■ Oh, my God 1’^ she exclaimed, “ how much 
gratitude do I owe thee for having saved me 



200 


THE KNOUT, 


from the seductions of that man—for wretched, 
indeed, would have been my fate had I married 
him ! It is thy holy religion which has taught 
me to prefer the eternal beauties of the mind 
and of the soul to the poor, perishable charms 
of face or form. Blessed and praised for ever 
be thy name, oh God!” 

All that day did Rosa remain in her prison- 
chamber, trembling with apprehensions le^t 
Stanislaus might again make his appearance. 
But the day passed away without any further 
molestation, and indeed without any incident 
save a visit from the gaoler about sun-down. 
Yet Rosa was not forgotten, for, at the moment 
when she was about to seek repose for the 
night, she was summoned again to appear before 
the military court. Having discovered, from 
the questions addressed to her, that her father’s 
asylum was still unknown, she could not refrain 
from expressing her satisfaction. 

“Madame!” said the president, in a harsh, 
cold tone, “ for we now know you as the wife of 
another rebel—yOu had better reflect a little 
upon the torture which awaits you, and do, not 
flatter yourself that our sentence is but a mere 
idle threat, made use of to tdfrify you into com¬ 
pliance. Once more I ask, will you prevail 
upon Count Bialewski to submit to the impe¬ 
rial authority ?—Remember that your submis¬ 
sion will propitiate your judges. Moreover, 
you will do well to consider, that on the very first 
news of your punishment, your father will at 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


201 


once come forward, so that your obstinacy will 
have no other result than that of incensing us 
still more against you alll’^ 

Blessed are they who suffer for righteous¬ 
ness sake!” replied Rosa, with invincible 
firmness, “ those divine words are my hope and 
strength.” 

‘‘ Let the consequences of your mulish obsti¬ 
nacy fall, then, on your own head,’^ cried the 
president, in a wrathful voice, “ and on the 
heads of those whom you love so unwisely.” 

“ And yet neither you nor your master shall 
go unpunished for your unholy persecution!’^ 
cried Rosa, with earngst solemnity; “ God is 
the Supreme Judge of all, and he will have his 
day of retribution I” 

“ Silence, madame! ” said the president, 
st<jrnly, “ silence becomes you—prepare to hear 
t)*e final pronunciation of your sentence.” 

Having consulted for a few iginutes with the 
other members of the commission, he arose and 
pj onouriced the definite sentence that the daugh¬ 
ter of Count Bialewski, found guilty of high 
treason, was to be taken to the court-yard of 
the castle, and there receive twenty-five lashes 
of the knout, and then to be banished to Sibe¬ 
ria, where she was to work in the mines. 

Rosa heard this cruel decree with unmoved 
composure, and being brought back to her 
prison she passed the remainder of the night in 
prayer. Towards morning she fell into a slum¬ 
ber so that when the soldiers came to seek her 


202 


THE 


::xouT, 


they found her asleep, with her head resting on 
the side of her bed. On being awakened she 
quickly arose, and having recommended herself 
once more to the Divine protection, she quietly 
followed the soldiers, who appeared surprised 
by such heroic courage ima young and high born 
lady. The court-yard was filled with soldiers, 
and the gates had been thrown open so that any 
who wished might enter. But the invitation 
was useless, for scarcely one individual could 
bear to look upon such a dismal sight, and least 
of all the poor heart-wrung Poles. Rosa as- 
'cended with a firm step a sort of large trestle 
which had been hastily thrown up in the court. 
She was then tied to a stake driven down into 
the ground, and the executioner having torn off 
the garments which covered her shoulders, pre¬ 
pared to strike at the first signal. The victim, 
deadly pale, but still composed, folded her arms 
on her bosom, as though to conceal as much of 
her nakedness a^ she could from the . rude sol¬ 
diers, and fixed her liquid eyes on the blue 
heaven above, and awaited the first blow—her 
long fair tresses unintentionally loosened by the 
executioner fell over her shoulders and covered 
them as with a thick veil. Not a word was 
heard around, for even the hardened .spectators 
were struck with reverence and astonishment by 
the saintly resignation and shrinking modesty 
of that young girl. Nay, tears were seen to 
roll over the bronzed and weather-beaten faces 



A TALE OF POLAND. 203 


of many a one amongst the fierce soldiers of 
the Czar. 

“ Have you nothing to say ?” demanded the 
ojficer who presided at the execution of the 
sentence. 

“Nothing, except to invoke a blessing on 
the head of that father for whom I willingly 
suffer.’’ 

A low, subdued murmer of admiration ran 
from rank to rank of the soldiers and the peo¬ 
ple. Several voices were heard crying—“ par¬ 
don I” “ pardonBut the officer raised his 
sword, turning away his head as he did so; the 
drums were heard for a moment, but the next 
all was silence save the hissing sounds of the 
whip as it lashed and tore the naked shoulders 
of the heroic daughter of Bialewski. Though 
even at the tenth stroke her strength was seen 
10 fail, and her head, to sink languidly bn her 
bosom, yet on and on went the fatal lash till the 
twenty-five had been given. The bleeding and 
now senseless body was then unbound from the 
post and taken back to the straw couch in the 
prison. A surgeon was brought, who, having 
washed and dressed the deep wounds inflicted 
by the whip, assured the spectators that the 
lady would live. After a little time the poor 
sufferer opened her eyes, and when conscious¬ 
ness returned she was never once heard to mur¬ 
mur, though the pain of her many wounds must 
have been excruciating. 

About a month after, her strength being weH 



204 


THE KNOUT, 


nigh restored, she was one morning summoned by 
the gaoler, (who had been her only nurse dur¬ 
ing her illness,) to join some other prisoners 
who were, he ppposed, setting out for Siberia. 
She was then conducted to a large hall on the 
first floor where she found assembled about 
twenty convicts, all of the very first families 
of Poland. But, oh ! what mipgled feelings of 
happiness and sorrow were hers when amongst 
them she recognized the noble form of her 
father, who received her in his arms, and tears 
streamed copiously from the eyes of both. The 
commissioners had not erred in their diabolical 
calculation: the terrible news of Rosa’s punish¬ 
ment had flown like wild-fire through the city, 
and reached the Count in his obscure retreat. 
Overwhelmed with anguish, the heart-stricken 
father could no longer remain absent from his 
daughter for the sake of preserving a life which 
was now useless if he could not devote it to 
that heroic child. He hoped that by submit¬ 
ting himself, they would be banished together, 
and as they might be 'bound by the same chain, 
he could still protect his cherished darling even 
in exile and captivity. Thus it was that they 
met again at this sad moment, and yet so great 
was their joy that they could only express it by 
their tears. 

“Oh my father!’^ said Rosa at length, as 
they ascended the vehicle which was to convey 
them from Warsaw and across the entire 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


205 


kingdom of Poland, “ oh! mj father I were 
Raphael but with us, we could forget all our 
sufferings.” 


CHAPTER XT. 


It is needless to follow the exiles on their 
journey; suffice it to say that these unfortunates 
had in or about nine hundred and fifty leagues 
to cross ere they could reach the dreary place 
of their destination. The journey took three 
months, and as it was commenced towards the 
middle of October, just when the frost sets in 
with severity, they had to undergo during the 
entire route the daily increasing rigor of a 
northern winter. At one time they were car¬ 
ried on wretched carts; then dragged along on 
a species of sledge or train without the slight¬ 
est covering; then again walking on foot 
through frost and snow. Sometimes obliged to 
stop in some inhospitable desert, on account of 
the illness of some of their number—being 
never served but with the very coarsest food, 
and often harshly treated by the guard, it was 
truly miraculous that the poor exiles were able 
to bear up against such accumulated misery and 
privation, or that any of them lived to reach 
18 



206 


THE KNOUT, 


the term of their unnatural journey. During 
all that dreary time the Count watched over the 
comfort of his daughter with the fondest and 
most unwearying solicitude—sustaining as best 
he might, her tottering steps, for notwithstand¬ 
ing all her high-souled courage, her frame was 
weak and enfeebled by suffering. His tender 
care was well seconded by his brethren in mis¬ 
fortune, who, forgetful of their own sufferings, 
contrived to obtain secretly from the charity of 
the people as they went along, many a little 
gift for their young fellow-traveller. Many a 
tijne, too, did one or other of them, although 
exhausted, and with torn and bleeding feet, help 
the Count to carry his daughter over some dan¬ 
gerous and toilsome path. But they deemed 
themselves well repaid when they heard the 
broken, yet still sweet voice of Rosa raised to 
heaven for them in grateful supplication, and 
they listened with swelling hearts as she spoke 
of that God who never forsakes the afflicted 
when they call on Him for aid, and whose mercy 
was with them there where human pity was 
^cad and cold. “ Our sufferings,” would she 
say, “ may perchance wash away the sins of our 
people and avert from them the avenging hand; 
and then, think of the heavenly country where 
we shall all, if it be not our own fault, find rest 
and joy everlasting—where we shall be com¬ 
pensated an hundred—ay, a thousand fold for 
the miseries we now endure ! But Rosa did 
not content herself with kind and hopeful words, 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


207 


but laid hold on every opportunity to minister 
to the comfort of her companions, many of 
whom owed their lives to her gentle'and cease¬ 
less attentions.' Thus supported and encouraged 
by mutual charity, the band of prisoners reached 
Tobolsk, the capital of Siberia, where we shall 
leave them for the present. 

We left Raphael a refugee on the Prussian 
territory, at the moment when, after months 
and months of weary anxiety, he had resolved 
on going in search. of Rosa and her father. 
After the dispersion of the Polish army, and 
when many of his companions in arms had 
sought and found in France a safe and honora¬ 
ble refuge, Raphael had been retained by his 
wounds and their effects, in the little village of 
Culm, about ten leagues from the frontier, 
where he lodged in the house of a worthy Bur¬ 
gess, to whom he paid about fifty florins per 
month. There he was kindly and carefully 
nursed during his long and tedious illness, for 
he had fallen into the hands of good and com¬ 
passionate people. But nothing could soothe 
his mind in its harrowing suspense, and as all 
communication with Poland was at an end, her 
population being as closely confined to their 
own soil as though locked in a vast tomb, so 
Raphael determined to make his way back into 
that desolate country, and make an attempt to 
set the Count and Rosa free, if happily he could 
find them. Having maturely considered his 
project, he made up his mind to speak to his 


208 


THE KNOUT, 


liost on the subject, as he relied much on his 
friendship to favor his escape into Poland. As 
a refugee, he was an object of suspicion to the 
Prussian authorities, but' latterly he had not 
been so closely watched, owing to his long 
illness and tedious recovery. 

One evening, then, towards the middle of , 
December, Master Albrecht, being seated near 
the fire smoking his long pipe with an air of 
luxurious meditation, while his comely wife sat 
at a little distance sewing, Raphael took occa¬ 
sion to broach the subject which ever filled his 
mind. ^ 

“ I have news for you, my good sir,’^ said he, 

“ which will, I know, give pain to your kind 
heart! I am about to leave you.’’ 

“What! are you, too, bound for France?” 
cried Master Albrecht, laying his pipe beside 
his pot of beer so suddenly, and with such a 
force, that it broke in three pieces: seeing 
which the good burgess coolly added : “ Ay ! 
sure enough, the best of friends must part!” 

“ You are much nearer to your country while 
with us,” observed Madame Albrecht, as, letting 
her work fall on her knee, she looked up with 
a saddened air—“ and besides, I do not know 
that you are well enough yet to undertake so 
long a journey at this inclement season.” 

“ My worthy friends!” said Raphael, “I arn 
not going to France, for that would but remove 
me farther still from those ties which alone 
bind me to this world, but I mean to return to 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


209 


Poland, to ascertain whether those I love are 
living or dead, and if I find them, I shall live 
or die with them/’ 

“ To Poland, did yon say ?” exclaimed Mas¬ 
ter Albrecht, with a significant glance at his 
wife, as though urging her to be silent; “ surely 
you could not be mad enough to think of such 
a step, which could only end in your own de¬ 
struction.” 

‘‘ Only listen. Master Albrecht, to what I have 
to say, and your generous heart will acknowl¬ 
edge that I am right. I have left behind in that 
unhappy land a lovely and a noble bride — one 
who, from the innumerable virtues and graces of 
her mind would adorn the throne of a monarch. 
Yet I left her at the very moment when she had 
become mine by every sacred tie — when I had 
sworn to love and cherish her forever. Her fa¬ 
ther, my best friend, is pursued by the sleepless 
vigilance of the Russians, and must be racked 
with apprehension for the desolate condition of 
his only child. Then 1 have in Lithuania a grand¬ 
mother who has been to me all that the fondest 
parent could have been, and whom I regard with 
even more than filial affection. I assure you, my 
kind friends, that I say but little when I assert 
that the safety of these three persons is dearer 
to me than my own existence, and you will allow 
that if there be even one poor chance of saving 
any of them, I am imperatively bound to try it. 
— Consider that, even while 1 speak to you, they 
may be wandering about without a shelter from 
18 * 



• 210 


THE KNOUT. 


the frozen air, incssantly menanced by a punish¬ 
ment awarded to the vilest criminals!— and can 
I, then, remain here in peace and comfort ? — oh 
no — no. Were I not urged on by the strongest 
affections of my heaxi, even shame itself would 
compel me to seek them in their danger and in 
their misery! 

“ But whither will you go then ? ” demanded 
Albrecht, visibly affected by RaphaeFs agitation 
— have you formed any plan — or have you any 
particular place in view ? ” And as he spoke this 
he ever and anon exchanged a meaning glance 
with his wife. 

“ I shall go first to Warsaw,returned Ra¬ 
phael. 

“The deuce you will?—and in a coach, I 
suppose, provided with a passport setting forth 
in due form your name, rank, age and profes¬ 
sion I Just Heaven! my young friend, you speak 
like anything but a man of sense. To Warsaw, 
forsooth ! — why that would be leaping into the 
very jaws of the wolf. And what if you should 
not find in Warsaw the friends for whom you are 
so venturesome, eh?” 

“ Why, then, I shall journey on, wherever hope 
will .lead me.’’ 

“ And suppose you were told that your friends 
are in a place where no effort of yours can 
obtain access—a place, in short, where you can¬ 
not find them ? ” 

“The wide world contains no such spot!” 
cried Raphael with unwonted vehemence. “ But 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


211 


is it possible that you know anything of them? 
Speak—speak, I implore you I ” 

“Yes, my good young friend,’’ replied Mas¬ 
ter Albrecht with solemn gravity, and again 
throwing a glance on his wife which seemed to 
say: “ Since he will have it, why needs must.” 
“ Yes, I have long known the retreat of your 
friends, and it is such that I hesitate in making 
it known to you.” 

“ In mercy, tell me at once! ” 

“ Well, then—it is Siberia!”’ 

“ Siberia! oh righteous God ! what a des¬ 
tiny!” cried Raphael, and a sudden chillness 
benumbed his mind and body, so that for some 
time he could not even speak. 

Without appearing to notice his overwhelm¬ 
ing grief. Master Albrecht went onIt is now 
almost three months since we learned from the 
public journals that Count Bialewski and his 
daughter, with several other noble Poles, had 
been banished to Siberia, I believe to the neigh¬ 
borhood of Tobolsk. You must acknowledge, 
then, my young friend, that no human power 
can draw them thence—God alone can do that, 
and let us beg of Him that He may soften the 
heart of the Czar in their favor! ” 

“ There, then, will I go,” said Raphael, sud¬ 
denly breaking silence, “ and if I cannot snatch 
them from their wretched fate, I can at least 
share it with them.” 

“ As far as sharing their fate goes,” observed 
Albrecht phfegmatically, “ why the thing is easy 


212 


THE KNOUT, 


enough if you can only make up your mind to 
venture into those dreary deserts.” 

“ But might you not serve those you love 
much m‘ore effectually,” said Madam Albrecht, 
“ by remaining here, and engaging some of those 
who have influence at Court to intercede with 
the Emperor for their pardon?” 

“ No, no,” replied Raphael, almost impatient¬ 
ly, “ it would take years and years to soften 
that proud, stony heart, and in the meantime 
they might have sunk under their misery. The 
matter is just this—I have made up my mind to 
set out withoift delay, and I rely on your 
friendly aid, Master Albrecht, in facilitating 
my escape.” 

“ I will do all I can for you, but I would 
rather serve you in some other way.” 

Raphael passed two weeks more in prepar¬ 
ations for his journey, and above all in study¬ 
ing the regions through which he had to pass: 
he consulted all the best maps, and marked 
out his line of travel almost day by day. 
He hoped that in the disguise of a peasant he 
could make his way without attracting any at¬ 
tention, from stage to stage and from village to 
village to the confines of Russia in Europe. 
The excessive temerity of this project was its 
only chance of success, for no one could have 
supposed that an outlaw once escaped, would 
voluntarily throw himself again into danger, 
by venturing back into the country where dis¬ 
covery hung over him at every step,. 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


213 


“ Well, so let it e’en be,” said Master Al¬ 
brecht, “ and I trust your exceeding audacity 
will be your safeguard, for you judge well in 
taking it for granted that no one would suspect 
you of going with open eyes into the clutches 
of the enemy. You will probably reach Sibe¬ 
ria—that I admit—but how will you get out 
of it with your companions ?” 

“ Oh I I do not pretend to foresee so far into 
the future,” replied Raphael with a smile; 
“when once we are together, we can arrange 
our plans and act as opportunity will permit.” 

Raphael then made arrangements with Al¬ 
brecht touching the jewels and bank bills confi¬ 
ded to hinrby Count Bialewski, in anticipation 
of what had since been too fully realised. 
Three-fourths of the whole he left in the hands 
of his host until such times as himself or some 
one for him could come to reclaim it. For him¬ 
self he barely took what he could secrete about 
his person, being no more than he deemed abso¬ 
lutely necessary for his own wants and the 
execution of his projects. The question now 
was how to get over the frontier, and that was 
no slight difficulty : there was no chance of pas¬ 
sing into Poland unnoticed, so watchful were 
the Russians all along the line, albeit that they 
kept a closer eye to those who went out, having 
little Suspicion that any of those who once got 
safe out, would covet going in again.—Some 
other plan, then, must be tried, and only two 
suggested themselves. One of these was to pro- 


214 


THE KNOUT. 


cure a passport for Raphael under a fictitious 
name: but here were found so many difficulties 
that the idea was given up in despair; and Ra¬ 
phael was fairly at a loss when worthy Master 
Albrecht came out with his expedient. Having 
remarked that Raphael spoke German with the 
utmost fluency, he proposed to him to enter Po¬ 
land as the travelling agent of a commercial house 
in Culm, belonging to the fur trade, by which 
means he could traverse all Russia without let 
or hindrance, and Siberia as well.— Raphael 
willingly accepted this proposal, and was fur¬ 
nished ■ with letters of instruction from the 
worthy fur-merchant, who was an intimate friend 
of Master Albrecht. He then passed^some days 
in making himself acquainted with the details 
of that business (so as to act his part as well as 
possible.) and in this he found but little diffi¬ 
culty, owing to his previous knowledge of natu¬ 
ral history. 

Having all his preliminaries satisfactorily 
arranged, Raphael took leave of Master Albrecht 
and his worthy help-mate, not without giving 
them the most substantial marks of his grati¬ 
tude, and set out with all possible despatch for 
the frontier. Thanks to his good German, and 
his pacific guise, he was permitted to pass with¬ 
out molestation. Plow, indeed, could any one 
have imagined that one whose very life was 
at stake could wear so calm an aspect, and 
demean himself so quietly when standing in 
the presence of his mortal foe ? He traversed, 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


215 


almost without stopping, the ancient kingdom 
of Poland (kingdom alas I no more!) and 
bent his course to Lithuania. There, more 
than ever, it behoved him to make no delay, 
for there he was peculiarly exposed to the danger 
of being recognised. Moreover, he gathered 
from the conversation in an inn that the Rus¬ 
sian commander had received full power to in¬ 
stitute military commissions anywhere within 
the Lithuanian districts, to take summary cog¬ 
nisance of all who might be suspected of having 
been engaged in the late insurrection, and to 
give sentence of banishment, confiscation, the 
labor of the mines, or even of death. Terror 
and dismay were seen on every face, for a hand 
of iron smote every heart. None could deem 
themselves secure, and there was not a single 
family that did not tremble for a father, a son, 
or a husband. Wealthy families and individuals 
were suddenly stripped of everything they pos¬ 
sessed, by confiscation, and saw themselves re¬ 
duced to abject poverty. A prince was con¬ 
demned by the remorseless conqueror, to travel 
on foot to his Siberian exile. Neither were the 
lower ranks spared, for all the Lithuanian 
soldiers and non-commissioned officers were 
transported to the farthest provinces of the vast 
Russian empire, with no hope of ever again 
beholding the heart-wrung mourners whom they 
left behind.—Religion itself, the divine solace 
of the wretched and the sorrowful was perse¬ 
cuted with renewed violence, and treated with 
the most insulting contempt. Yet the catalogue 


216 


THE KNOUT, 


of horrors ended not even there, for something 
yet remained for that most wretched people,— 
something before unheard of in the annals of 
oppression. Very soon there came from St. 
Petersburg the following order, bearing date 
the 21st November, 1831:— 

“ His Imperial Majesty has graciously vouch¬ 
safed to publish a supreme order for the re¬ 
moval of five thousand Polish gentlemen with 
their families from the province of Podolia, to 
the steppes of the Tresor, said families to be 
stationed immediately within the line or in the^ 
district of Causasus, so that they may be after¬ 
wards enrolled in our military service. In 
making this selection, the following conditions 
must be observed: firstly, those are to be taken 
who, having been banished for participating in 
the last rebellion, are returned from exile, their 
appointed time being expired; those also who 
have been included in the third class of crimi¬ 
nals, and have consequently received His Ma¬ 
jesty’s gracious pardon. Secondly, all those 
whose manner of living renders them liable to 
be suspected by the local authorities. Further¬ 
more, your Excellency will employ all necessary 
means (without publishing or making known 
the particular nature of this order) to register 
the names of all those families on whom you may 
have pitched, so that you can immediately put 
this decree into execution, according to the 
particular instructions hereafter to be trans¬ 
mitted to you.” 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


217 


Another dispatch added: 

“ His Majesty, in confirming the rules to be 
observed, has graciously written with his own 
hand what follows:—These rules and regula¬ 
tions apply not only to Podolia, but to all the 
western governments : Wilna, Grodno, Yitepsk, 
Bialistok, Mink, Yothynia and Ryow, ^fhich 
will make in all forty-five thousand families. 
Those of gentle birth, who have no landed pro¬ 
perty, no revenues, nor fixed occupation, who 
live idly and often change their places of abode, 
shall be removed to the line of Caucasus, and 
shall be enrolled in the Cossack regiments, and 
as henceforward they shall be regarded as Cos¬ 
sacks they are to have no sort of communica¬ 
tion with the other colonies of Polish gentle¬ 
men. To conclude, if these Poles show any 
reluctance to emigrate as we have ordered, we 
hereby give your Excellency full power to 
coerce them to compliance.’' 

This truly savage system of wholesale banish¬ 
ment was already commenced, twelve hundred 
families having been torn from their ancestral 
homes in Podolia alone. So deep and universal, 
however, was the detestation with which the 
people beheld this new atrocity, that the Rus¬ 
sian authorities were obliged to suspend its 
further execution for a time, keeping it always 
in view, and laying hold of every pretext to 
carry on by stealth and by indirect means that 
which they feared to do openly, ouch was the 
aspect of affairs when Raphael once more enter- 
19 


218 


THE KNOUT, 


ed his native province. At every step his ears 
were assailed by the recital of these horrors, 
mingled with groans, and sighs, and lamenta¬ 
tions which pierced his very heart. Yet, not 
all the danger of the undertaking could prevent 
him from going in person to his own home to 
see ft)w it fared with his beloved and revered 
parent. He was, nevertheless, obliged by a 
violent snow-storm to stop a few days in the 
first Lithuanian village. As he entered the little 
town he was struck by even an unusual display 
of military strength; strong parties of soldiers 
being stationed at the gates and all the open¬ 
ings. Yet, .regardless of all this, and defying 
the orders of the police, the people were gath¬ 
ered together in the streets, and appeared under 
the influence of one of those fits of passion 
wliere all sense of fear is extinguished. Raphael 
hastened to inquire of the landlady the cause of 
this violent outburst of popular feeling. 

“ Oh sir!” she replied, with a sort of a fierce¬ 
ness, borrowed from the occasion, and throwing 
away, as if in disdain, all that reserve which re¬ 
cent events had forced the people to observe 
towards strangers—“ Oh sir! it is a thing which 
outrages both heaven and earth — they want to 
rob us of our children — that they do! ” 


o 


A TALE OF POLAND. 219 


CHAPTER. XVI. 

“ To rob ye of your children I ” cried Raphael 
“ is it possible ? ” 

“ It is no wonder, sir, that you can scarcely 
believe it; but what I tell you is true for 
that, for they are now trying so execute an 
order sent by the Emperor to that effect. Oh! 
surely these Russians have no heart! 

As she spoke thus, the poor woman, who was, 
still young and pretty, kept looking around 
with a wild and restless glance; then advancing 
to the door she looked out with a haggard stare 
on the increasing tumult in the street. 

“ Have you reason to fear for your own fam¬ 
ily ? ’’ inquired Raphael. 

Alas I I am the most unfortunate of human 
beings!cried the poor woman, bursting into 
tears. “ Only think, sir, at the close of our last 
troubles they tore away my husband, because he 
had done his duty, and fought for poor Poland. 
These eyes saw him dragged away in chains like 
a vile criminal, without a hope of seeing him 
again in this life, while I was left, in a state 
bordering on ruin, with one poor child of about 
five years old. Well! all that, it seems, is not 
enough, for the emperor now decrees'that all 
our children, who are thus left orphans, are to 


220 


THE KNOUT, 


be gathered up by his agents and sent off to the 
depth of that hateful Russia, tttere to be brought 
up as his subjects. Yet this man— this emper¬ 
or—has the assurance to give himself airs of 
kindness and humanity! Just think of that— 
and he taking from us our poor little helpless 
children, whom he has already deprived of their 
fathers I—As they have no fathers, he has the im¬ 
pudence to say, that he will be a father to them 1 
But, oh God I sir, what will become of their poor 
mothers ?—oh I would that my eyes were closed 
in death before they look on such a sight!! 

“ Take courage madam ! for things may not 
be as bad as you seem to apprehend. Surely 
the Imperial order must be exaggerated in re¬ 
port, for though I know very well that the Rus¬ 
sians will eagerly snap up all such children as 
are really orphans, and send them to people 
their vast deserts, yet they must respect the 
rights of families.’^ 

“ They will respect nothing, sir—nothing ! ” 
replied the landlady, with increasing agitation, 
“ that I know full well, for I have seen them 
at work all yesterday and to-day.’^ 

And she hastened away from Raphael, as 
though his having expressed a doubt of the bar¬ 
barity of the Russians had made him suspicious 
in her eyes. For some minutes longer she re¬ 
mained gazing out with a terrified countenance 
on the stormy scene without, but suddenly run¬ 
ning back into the house, she cried out in 
accents of horror. 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


221 


“ Here they come—uiiliappy 11—here they 
are and so saying, she darted up the stairs to 
the chamber where her boy lay sleeping in his 
little bed. Raphael and some of the servants 
of the hotel hastened to the door to see what 
was going on without. They were soon obliged 
to retreat, however, for a party of police, and 
another of soldiers, quickly entered the house. 

“ Where is the mistress of the house de¬ 
manded the officer in command. The servants 
pointed to the staircase, whereupon the agents 
ascended without another word of inquiry, as 
though ashamed of their odious employment, 
and anxious to get through with it as soon as 
possible. Soon after the most piercing screams 
were heard from above, and in an instant the 
young woman was si5en dragged down the stairs 
by the police, with her child clasped convul¬ 
sively in her arms. 

“ No I no f- she cried, “ you may kill me if 
you will, but you shall not deprive me of my 
child! I am his mother—he is mine, and J^our 
emperor has nothing to do with him. It is for 
me, who has given him birth and fed him from 
my breast, to bring him up as I wish and as I 
best can. You will not leave your mother, my 
child, will you ? Leave his mother!—why, he 
would die, poor innocent, without a mother’s 
care! Oh! sirs—good gentlemen! have mercy 
on me, and leave me my only child—see, I kneel 
to you—oh! do not take him from me !” 

And the wretched suppliant knelt on the 
19* 



222 


THE KNOUT) 


snowy ground, with the tears streaming from 
her eyes, and her face bowed almost to the 
earth. Her boy terrified, though he knew not 
why, nestled close in her arms. 

“ Come, come, Madame I we must put an end 
to this! give me the child at once!’’ said the 
officer quickly, evidently desirous of terminating*, 
a scene of which he was heartily ashamed. Ap¬ 
proaching the poor mother, he tried to force the 
child from her arms: at first she struggled with 
inconceivable energy, but seeing that several 
others of his people came forward to assist him, 
and being herself almost exhausted : 

“ Wait—wait a moment,’^ she cried, with a 
phrenzied air, “just wait till I bid him fare¬ 
well And with wild, delirious gestures, she 
strained him in her arms—closer and closer 
still, till the child became livid and motionless, 
then she threw him towards those who waited 
for him—while they, in their turn, stood aghast 
and horrified. 

““"Butchers!” cried the unhappy woman, with 
maniac fury, “ there he is! you may now take 
him if you will; there he is 

A cry of horror escaped from every mouth, 
and each spectator stood motionless before that 
hideous sight. But the unfortunate W'oman 
speedily regained lier senses, and as though see¬ 
ing for the first time, the inanimate form of her 
child, she caught it in her arms, and pressed it 
tenderly to her heart with the vain hone of re- 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


223 


storing it to life and warmth, crying out “My 
child—my poor, poor child! they have killed 
my son!” 

When recovered from their first stupor of 
horror and surprise, the police drew away the 
ill-fated mother, who died a few days after in an 
hospital, incessantly repeating while life remain¬ 
ed,. “ My child! they have murdered my child! ” 

Raphael glided away as soon as the weather 
would at all permit, from scenes which he could 
not long have witnessed without betraying his 
feelings. He was, moreover, ‘fearfully anxious 
on account of his grand-mother, and longed to 
know how it had fared with her amid this uni¬ 
versal desolation. Though the weather was 
still very severe he set out at once, and after a 
tedious journey, he arrived at the close of day 
within half a league of his own castle. Having 
left his j^ledge at an inn on the road-side, saying 
that business called him for a few days to the 
interior of the country, he set out on foot, and 
just as the last gleam of daylight faded from 
the earth he stood at the entrance of the well- 
known avenue which led to the castle. The 
gate lay open, and he entered with a jinking 
heart for all around bore the traces of devasta¬ 
tion and neglect. Large fragments of ruins 
blockedmp the passage ; the long, grass grew on 
the pathways; no sound was heard, nor no light 
was visible in the castle, and all was dark and 
silent as the grave. Raphael felt the silence 
oppressive 'and he ventured to call aloud, but 


224 


THE KNOUT, 


no one answered—no voice was heard in reply, 
not even that of his faithful watch-dogs. He 
approached, and entered by one of the doors 
which lay wide open, but the place was empty 
and desolate, and after grouping his way through 
the old familiar halls and chambers, he became 
fearfully impressed with a sense of awe and 
loneliness. The floors were everywhere covered 
with shattered and broken furniture—the dra¬ 
pery of the windows wave.d to and fro in tatters 
in the cold night wind, while heaps of straw 
were spread in the larger apartments, and the 
hearths were strewed with crockery, and dir^y, 
broken kettles, giving woeful evidence that the 
place had been occupied as a temporary barrack. 

“ Alas! the Russians have been here!” mur¬ 
mured Raphael, mournfully, “ but what have the 
barbarians done with my dear grandmother— 
can they have poured out their vengeance on 
her noble and venerable head V' Descending 
to the court-yard, he bent his steps towards a 
neighboring farm-house, whose inmates had ever 
been faithfully devoted to his family, and where 
he hoped to learn something of that which yet 
he dreaded to hear. It was dark when he 
knocked at the door, and was admitted by the 
farmer himself. 

“ Can you shelter a traveller for the night 
demanded Raphael. 

“ Come in, sir ” replied the peasant, respect¬ 
fully ; “ it is only the cold that makes us keep 
the door shut, for we make it a rule to leave it 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


225 


open for any one who stands in need of supper 
or bed.” 

Raphael entered the house without making 
himself known, and was shown to a seat near a 
cheerful fire, where the mistress of the family 
was preparing supper. The good man took his 
seat in the opposite corner, and waited in re¬ 
spectful silence for his guest to open the con¬ 
versation. 

“ I think,” said Raphael, in a disguised voice, 
that when I was last in this neighborhood the 
castle hard by was inhabited—indeed, I had 
calculated to call there now on business. Can 
you tell me what is become of the venerable 
lady who lived there, I think, with her grand¬ 
son ?” 

The honest peasant changed countenance, and 
it was easy to see that the subject was a pain¬ 
ful one to him. “ Our good lady,” said he, 
with deep feeling, “is gone to a better world 
than this, to reap the reward of her virtues!” . 

What! is she dead cried Raphael. 

“Yes, dead, master! and not of old age, nei¬ 
ther !” 

“ Great God, then,,how did she die ?—what 
happened to her?” said Raphael again, with 
uncontrollable emotion. 

“ If you were acquainted with that noble 
lady,” replied the farmer, “ you may have known 
the extent of her courage. Well! the Russians 
having taken possession of her castle, she pro¬ 
tested against such injustice, and asked by what 



226 


THE KNOUT, 


right they took up their quarters in her dwell¬ 
ing. ‘ Because/ was the reply, ‘ the govern¬ 
ment wants to punish your grandson, who is at 
this moment pursued as a traitor.’ The high- 
spirited lady instantly replied, that it was she 
who had brought up her grandson, and had in¬ 
stilled into his mind those patriotic-sentiments 
which every Polish noble ought to cherish. 
This confession drew upon her all the fury of 
the Russians, who first gave her up to the pun- 
, ishment of the knout, and then threw her out 
upon the highway more dead than alive, where 
she soon after expired in the arms of her faith¬ 
ful servants, before they had time to seek an 
asylum for her.” 

“God of mercy-cried Raphael, with a 
shudder, “ what revolting cruelty I—not even 
extreme old age could shield her from their 
brutal vengeance! they had no pity on her 
hoary locks I” 

“Neither hoary locks nor flaxen ringlets are 
any passport with them,” replied the worthy 
farmer—“ they make no distinction, all are 
alike. Will you believe it, sir, that three 
months ago, dr thereabout, we saw a neighbor¬ 
ing lord, the Count Bialewski, carried, past here 
with his lovely daughter, on their way to that 
infernal Siberia ? But behold you—even worse 
than that—the sweet young lady, who is more 
of an angel than a woman, Pll swear—had pub¬ 
licly suffered in Warsaw before they left it, the 
horrible punishment of the knout. Yes, trulj", 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


227 


the Wretches had the heart to majQgle her deli¬ 
cate flesh with their dreadful lash — did you 
ever hear of such atrocity in your life, sir, as 
we see in these days of ours ? ” 

The words died on the quivering lips of Ra¬ 
phael, and the tears which before ho could 
scarcely repress, now burst from his eyes. The 
farmer, surprised by his strange emotion, fixed 
an enquiring eye on his face. ** 

“ My good friend,’’ said Raphael, making a 
strong effort to speak composedly, “ I knew all 
these of whom you speak — yes, well I knew 
them — be not, then, surprised to see these tears 
which I cannot repress. It is useless now to 
tell you who I am, for the knowledge of my 
name might hereafter bring you into trouble, 
and even danger, should I myself be discov¬ 
ered.” 

He then obtained an account from the peasant 
of all that he heard concerning Rosa and her 
father, and though the whole amounted but to 
some rumors which had flown about the coun¬ 
try, it was yet sufficient to rend his very heart. 

“Yes, now,” said the farmer, as he concluded 
his recital, “ we see nothing around us but-deso- 
lation — the rich and the poor are alike the 
objects of Russian vengeance. They trample 
us under foot and oppress us in every way they 
can think of, and worse than all, they would 
force us to give up our holy religon, the old 
faith of our fathers. In our neighborhood here, 
they nave shut up the monastery which was a 


228 


THE KNOUT, 


school for several parishes, and a hospital for 
the sick and diseased of all the country round. 
They are threatening us with Russian piiests, 
too, and just now, I am told, one of them is 
being forced on the people of Count Bialewski’s 
domains.’^ 

‘‘Is the Abbe Choradzo still in that parish?” 
broke in Raphael, as a new source of anxiety 
opeifed on his mind. 

“ Yes, I dare say he is, but we have heard it 
said that his church is to be closed forthwith, 
because* he preaches up firmness and fortitude 
to his people, and gives an example of pious 
zeal to all the district.” 

“Alas! what a trying situation for that ex¬ 
cellent priest,” said Raphael, “ but as you seem 
to think that he is still living, I must go and 
see him, ere yet he falls a victim to the blind 
fury of the oppressor. Are the roads which 
leads to Bialewski’s castle still open to travel¬ 
lers?” 

Oh yes, sir,” replied the farmer, “you can 
easily go there, if you know the country well 
enough to find your way.” 

“ Well, then, will you be kind enough to 
awake me at three o’clock in the morning, that 
I may go to ask a last blessing from the wo.rthy 
priest, before he is called to receive his crown 
of martyrdom ? Good night, my kind friends.” 

Raphael then entered an inner chamber, and 
tlirew himself on the bed which had been pre¬ 
pared for him, but he could not sleep. Ever 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


229 


before his eyes was the harrowing picture of 
his dear, his venerated parent, expiring under 
the ruthless blows of the Russians, and the 
savage executioner mangling with his ponder¬ 
ous lash the delicate form of his Rosa—his 
young bride. Thus passed away the tedious# 
hours of night, and just at the moment when 
his wearied eyes were closing in a broken 
slumber, he was aroused by the voice of his host 
telling him that the appointed hour was come. 
In a few minutes Raphael was ready to set out, 
and on taking leave of his kind entertainers, he 
would amply have rewarded them for their 
trouble, but his offer was firmly declined; no¬ 
thing could induce the worthy farmer or his 
wife to accept even the smallest reward. 

“ Well, then,” said Raphael, as he warmly 
shook hands with his host, “ I must prove my 
gratitude in some way, and since you will not 
receive money, I must e’en give you my confi¬ 
dence. I am Raphael Ubinski, the grandson 
of your lamented lady—surely you remember 
me ?” 

“ My God I” cried the farmer, literally petri¬ 
fied with astonishment, “ how is it that I have 
failed to recognise your lordship I But if you 
will have the goodness to wait a moment, my 
lord, I will attend you on your journey—it is 
my duty to do so f’ 

Not so,” returned Raphael promptly; “ I 
will not have you leave your home merely to 
follow me—no, no—stay where you are, and 
20 


230 


THE knout; 


farewell till we meet again.’^ And he moved 
away with a light and rapid step. A clear 
moonlight guided his way, and as he knew 
every turn and short-cut across the country, the 
day was but just dawning when he came in 
• sight of the hamlet which lay around the castle 
of Bialewski. The bell of the parish church 
was tolling, as though for a funeral service, and 
though it was neither Sunday nor holyday, the 
church stood open, and was lighted up as if for 
some solemn service, while the villagers and 
country people were seen thronging in from 
every side. Raphael knocked at the door of 
the presbytery, and the priest himself appeared: 

To whom have I the honor of speaking ?” 
he inquired, as his eye fell on the supposed 
stranger. 

The good vicar looked grave, and his usually 
calm countenance was much disturbed, so that 
Raphael saw there must be something extraor¬ 
dinary going forward, and that he had no time 
to lose. 

“ Why, reverend father !’' said he, “ can it be 
that you do not recognise one of your old ac¬ 
quaintances—Raphael Ubinski T’ 

“Oh, heavens!’^ exclaimed the priest in as¬ 
tonishment, “ is it possible that you are here ? 
Surely you do not know the danger to which 
you expose yourself?” 

“ Nay, I should think there is but little 
chance of my being discovered,” returned Ra¬ 
phael, “ when even you did not know me!” 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


231 


“ But wtat lias induced you to venture back 
amongst us, my young friend 

Raphael gave him a rapid sketcli of all that 
had passed since he had quitted Lithuania with 
the Count.and his children—how they had .been 
separated by the tide of events, and how he had 
resolved to brave every danger in order to 
snatch those beloved ones from exile, if God 
would permit him so to do. 

‘‘ Alas, yes said the pastor, with a deep 
sigh, “ their mournful fate has teen long known 
to me; and, notwithstanding the greatness and 
the multiplicity of the obstacles which lie in 
your way, I do hope that God in his great mercy 
will enable you to carry out your generous in¬ 
tentions. Yet, I cannot but regret that you 
have shown yourself here, for, alas! the conse¬ 
quences may be fatal to you 1” 

“ I was too near you,’^ said Raphael, with a 
mournful smile, “ not to venture a little for the 
pleasure of seeing you. But tell me, I pray 
you, what is going on here, that I see you all 
astir so early, and such a bustle of preparation 
among the people ?” 

“ We also have our trouble,said the vicar, 
in a tone of deep sadness, “and to-day they are 
to reach their height; but though the hour of 
trial year, fiery trial be come, I trust that God 
will sustain us. Since the Russians have lat¬ 
terly taken possession of the country, there is 
scarcely any species of iuault and annoyance 
but we have undergone. Of course, the church * 


232 


THE KNOUT. 


property was at once confiscated, for spoliation 
ever goes before persecution; but now they 
begin to thirst for our blood. They have 
gradually suppressed many of our churches, and 
would fetter the clergy of those which remain 
unclosed, by obliging us to mutilate and alter 
the unchangeable liturgy and doctrines of the 
church. We are forbid to keep or open schools; 
forbidden to receive converts, or to preach the 
word of God—nay, we have been a thousand 
times prevented from administering the sacra¬ 
ments to our poor people; in short, for several 
months past we have been compelled to witness 
the increasing encroachments of heresy, carried 
out and maintained by violence. And how many 
holy priests have protested against these odious 
encroachments, even till their voice was silenced 
by the fatal stroke—while many, many others 
of our brethren have been transported to the 
Siberian deserts, that vast and dreary sepulchre, 
wherein the Czar hopes to stifle the cries and 
groans of his victims. Our turn is at length 
come. I have received orders to cease at once 
the celebration of the divine mysteries—to 
shut up my church, and give up the key to a 
Russian priest, renouncing for ever the func¬ 
tions of my ministry. I am now about to cele¬ 
brate Mass for the last time, and 'to address 
some words of consolation and encouragement 
to my beloved flock, that may help to strengthen 
them in their faith, and in their resolution to 
die rather than give up one article thereof. 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


233 


For myself, I go to offer up my life in defence 
of the rights of our holy church.” 

“I shall go with you,” said Raphael, moved even 
to tears by the noble courage of the man of God. 

“Nay, my dear . Raphael I” answered the 
priest, as he^pressed the hand of the generous 
young man, “ nay, it is your duty to preserve 
your life for the sake of your friends. And I 
shall have to wait some time in the church, so 
you had better not come.” 

Yet Raphael did go, for he would not be re¬ 
fused, and having entered the church with the 
priest, he stationed .himself in the shade of a 
pillar, so as to escape attention, if that were 
possible. As to the people who thronged every 
corner of the sacred edifice, they were far too 
much intent on their own sad thoughts, and ab¬ 
sorbed in the fervor of their devotion to pay 
any attention to a stranger whose appearance was 
studiously plain and unassuming. The priest 
soon appeared in the sanctuary, and the holy 
sacrifice was offered up in solemn silence, bro¬ 
ken only by the sighs and low murmured wail¬ 
ings of the faithful. It was the last time that 
they were to assemble in that dear and venera¬ 
ble temple, erected by the zeal and piety of 
their fathers, and which it had been their own 
delight to adorn'by every little sacrifice- they 
could make. Never again might they gather 
around that altar where they bad so often re-- 
ceived the bread of angels. At the moment of 
tlie communion the whole people went forward, 
as one individual, and with the most affecting 



234 


THE KNOUT, 


tendernes of devotion, received the blessed sa¬ 
crament—the nourishment and support of their 
souls. Such was the divine specific which 
exalted above all human fear the martyrs of the 
early days, and the Church offers it not with 
less confidence to her children when eighteen 
centuries have proved ats unfailing efficacy in 
nerving the souls of her children for the dread 
battle with the enemy of salvation. The mass 
being ended, the priest once more took his 
place in the pulpit, and standing erect, his face 
bearing the impress of radiant hope and firm con¬ 
fidence, he addressed his people for the last time: 

“Be not surprised, my dear brethren, if I 
thus, in defiance of an unjust prohibition, ap¬ 
pear again before you, to repeat once and again, 
while opportunity remains to me, the glorious 
truths of our holy religion I You know, never¬ 
theless, that I have ever exhorted you to respect 
the laws and the commands of your rulers, pre¬ 
ferring peace and order . to all things else. 
Now it becomes my duty to speak far otherwise, 
and to remind you that the laws of man must 
necessarily be subservient to those of God. It 
is true we must ‘ render to Caesar the things 
that are Caesar’s,’ but at the same time we must 
render ‘ to God the things that are God’s.’ It 
is God, then, who has invested me with my 
authority, saying unio me, ‘ Go teach all na¬ 
tions, instructing them in all things, whatever 
I have .commanded you.’ Here, then, has Caesar 
no power—I must speak, since God has com¬ 
manded me, even though it be at the expense 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


235 


of my life. Oh, brethren! how could I remain 
a ‘ dumb dog' when so many dangers hang over 
the fold, heavier still than those which have 
come upon it. It has long been manifest to us 
that they are resolved on destroying our faith 
—that their object is to separate us from that 
Church beyond whose pale there is only discord 
and uncertainty. Yes, they would make ye 
apostates as well as slaves. Hitherto they have 
tried but stratagem and bribery, and these have 
ye nobly resisted.- But now they resort to 
force, to open violence, and perhaps before 
another hour passes, you will see a heretic 
priest, escorted by soldiers (oh, my God I is it 
thus that truth would spread her doctrines?) 
come here to profane our temple and defile our 
sacred altar with his unholy ministry. He will 
call upon you in the name of the Emperor, to 
adopt his belief, and .will menace you, under 
the same high authority, with the most dreadful 
punishment, in case .you resist. Oh, my chil¬ 
dren ! will not your unanimous answer be, ‘ we 
must obey God rather than man V and together 
we will yield up our lives in proof of our faith 
in God, and of our devotion to the Church by 
him established on earth. Let us shrink from 
no sacrifice that may contribute to preserve 
to this unhappy country the pure light of that 
Gospel which is to save the world. Yes, the 
entire wwld, and not any particular nation or 
nations. Should they at any time put forth the 
'pretext of nationality when urging you to eiu 
brace a faith which is confined, we may say, to 


236 


THE KNOUl, 


their own empire, remember that the question, 
is not to respect and obey the divine laws, or 
to increase the glory of God, but to favor the 
selfish views of princes and statesmen. Truth 
is one and indivisible—it is the same for the 
Russian as for the Italian; and since all must 
recognise the necessity of a religion which accu¬ 
rately defines and firmly maintains the relations 
existing between man and his Creator, so that 
religion, to be true, must be one and universal. 
—vivifying all nations by her sacred and immu¬ 
table doctrines, even as the- sun gives life to 
the world by his incorruptible rays. For the 
rest, ‘the tree is known by the fruits’—your 
holy religion is the same in all parts of the 
world; her means of conversion are persuasion 
and tenderness; her true missionaries are never 
sparing of their own blood, but never shed that 
of others, and everywhere she has left imperisha¬ 
ble monunaents of her greatness and of her 
charity. Error, on the contrary, has but two 
means of subduing souls, and each of them more 
detestable than the other: that is to say, op¬ 
pression and corruption. Its course is marked 
by ruin and wretchedness, and it can only re¬ 
tain mankind in its toils by plunging them into 
the darkness of ignorance, and by permitting 
them to gratify their most violent passions. 
But why, you will ask, does Providence so often 
permit truth to be led captive in the chains of 
error ? It is that we may learn its full value, 
and above all that we may become worthy of 
its inestimable blessings. When God wished 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


237 


to establish his Church, he purified the pagan 
world by the fire of persecution; and now, when 
that Church requires purification fromihe sins 
of her people, it is still persecution that he 
raises up to effect his end. Who may dare deny 
that we have drawn down upon ourselves these 
severe chastisements? We have suffered the 
truth to be darkened and well nigh corrupted 
amongst us; we have too long rejected the most 
energetic means of safety and preservation; we 
have, in a thousand instances, tampered with 
error; can we, therefore, be astonished if God 
unchains the strong winds of his wrath to sepa¬ 
rate the chaff from the grain ? Let us, then, 
brethren, endeavor to propitiate the avenger of 
sin by the most unlimited devotion; let us 
manifest before our persecutors the zeal and the 
courage of the primitive Christians, confessing 
our faith amid privations and even torments, so 
that bearing our cross willingly, and even joy¬ 
fully, we may ensure a final triumph to the cause 
of truth and righteousness. Let us above all, sup¬ 
plicate the great and good God that his sanctify¬ 
ing grace may sustain us under every trial and 
every torture, even, to the last moment of our 
lives. It is almost certain that I now address you 
for the last time; pi^serve then my last words as 
the last bequest of a father who will never for¬ 
get his children. If I am sent from you into 
exile, you shall ever live in my heart; and if I 
am to be slaughtered, as so many of my brethren 
have been, then I can serve you more effectually, 
before the throne of the Most High I 


238 


THE KNOUT, 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The prayers were not yet ended when some 
boys who had been on the watch, rushed into 
the church, crying out: “ The Russians are 
coming !—here they are just at hand! ” 

Upon this, all arose from their knees with an 
affrighted air, yet no one attempted to fly. 
“^My friends,'! said the vicar, “ have coura'ge, I 
beseech you. Here we must await them—they 
demand of us the abandonment of our faith, let 
us show them, then, by our firmness and forti¬ 
tude, how deeply engraven it is on our hearts. 
Let us continue our. prayers and then commence 
a hymn, for God hears us and will bless our de¬ 
votion to him I 

Immediately the suspended prayers were re¬ 
sumed in a loud, clear voice, when the priest 
rapidly approached Raphael and said to him: 
“ Retire now, I entreat you! You belong not to 
this parish—your example is not required here, 
and other duties summon you away.” 

‘‘ Nay, it may be necessary that I should re¬ 
main to witness the sequel;,” replied Raphael, 
“ suffer me, therefore, to keep my place! ” 

^ “ No—no,” returned the priest with empha¬ 
sis, “ you, too, have a pious task to perform, and 
I cannot consent that you should now throw 
away your life, where it cannot be of the least 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


239 


use to me or my people. Come, follow me! ” 
Raphael could no longer resist, so he suffered 
the priest to draw him away through the sanctu¬ 
ary, and in obedience to the direction of his 
finger he crossed the cemetery into the fields. 
There was little time for parting salutations, 
and in a minute or two the pastor was again 
kneeling in the midst of his flock. 

A few minutes passed away in fearful expec¬ 
tation, and then the loud roll of the Russian 
drums without the church, rose high above the 
voice of prayer within. Very soon after, a 
Russian priest made his appearance, accom¬ 
panied by several officers and a.magistrate, be¬ 
ing all members of a commission established by 
the Emperor for the regulation of ecclesiastical 
affairs,, while beyond in the porch was seen a 
line of glittering bayonets. The president of 
the ecclesiastical commission (he was a colonel 
in the imperial army) then advanced to the 
vicar, and pointing to the Russian priest he said 
in an imperious tone: 

“ Sir, His Majesty has given you a successor, 
to whom you will instantly give up the keys of 
this church, and follow us to give an account of 
your conduct, for this is a strange way of ex¬ 
ecuting the orders you have received. You are 
perfectly aware that you were commanded to 
close your church, and to abstain from all religi¬ 
ous manifestations in this parish until your suc¬ 
cessor had arrived. 

“ My conscience, sir, forbade me to obey 


240 


THE KNOUT, 


these orders,” returned the vicar calmly, “ and 
enjoined me moreover, to exercise the functions 
of my office till the last moment I” 

“ How ?—do you mean to say that your con¬ 
science prompted you to disobey the'Emperor?” 
demanded the interrogator, articulating every 
word with so strong an emphasis, as though he 
could not believe such a thing possible, “ why, 
that is madness, still more than blasphemy! 
We shall speedily apply a remedy to your 
disease, my good man 1 For the present, give 
up the keys of the church, I tell you again, and 
consider yourself as a prisoner I” 

“ I cannot abandon the temple of the Lord to 
an enemy of his holy law 1” replied the priest, 
raising his voice so as to encourage by his ex¬ 
ample his terrified people. “ Violence and 
impiety may profane this church, but never shall 
I acknowledge as my successor a man who brings 
hither only sacrilege and imposture I’' 

“ Is it thus you receive the Emperor’s com¬ 
mands ?” thundered out the colonel, his face 
livid with rage. 

“It is thus I acquit myself of my duty to 
God!” 

“ Carry off this reprobate,” roared the colonel, 
“ and scourge him till the blood runs from him 
in streams.” 

The soldiers quickly advanced to seize the 
vicar, who made a sign that he was willing to 
follow them; and then turning towards his peo¬ 
ple, who pressed around him with tears and 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


241 


lamentations: “My children!” said he, in a 
voice which touched every heart, “ be firm and 
courageous on behalf of your faith, and never 
lose sight of the precept, “ Render unto Caesar 
the things that are Caesar^s, but unto God the 
things that are God’s.” 

“ Silence, sirrah 1” cried the colonel sternly, 
“ and march on the instant—we shall see who 
is master here I Remove him.” 

No sooner had the priest been dragged from 
the church than the officer turned to the affiicted 
congregation, and made a haughty gesture com¬ 
manding them to listen. 

“ Good people,” said he, “ they would abuse 
your credulity by preaching up revolt and dis¬ 
obedience. You well know how great was your 
crime in taking up arms against your sovereign, 
and had reason to tremble for the punishment 
of your offense. Yet his gracious majesty, in 
the plentitude of his goodness, will not only 
overlook your rebellion, but wishes even to ad¬ 
mit you amongst his most faithful subjects. 
Hence it is that we remove from you an infat¬ 
uated priest whose seditious doctrines would 
draw down ruin upon you, and give you in his 
place one who enjoys the Emperor’s confidence, 
and who will instruct you in your duties to that 
august sovereign. I expect your cheerful sub¬ 
mission.” 

A mournful silence was the only reply, and 
the Russian priest stepped forward to say some¬ 
thing for himself. “Dear children,” said he, 

21 



242 


THE KNOUT, 


in smooth accents, “ I am exceedingly happy to 
see you all assembled around me, as it affords 
me a precious opportunity to make known to 
you the sacred mission confided to me. Be not 
alarmed; I have no other code than the G-ospel, 
and this I will expound to you in a manner that 
will, I am sure, give you entire satisfaction. 
By listening to my advice you shall never have 
cause to fear those chastisements and torments 
wherewith rebellion is punished. Of that you 
may rest assured, so we shall now proceed with 
a trifling ceremony which will terminate this 
first meeting. Each one as he leaves the church 
will sign this paper which I hold in my hand, 
and which relates solely to the magnanimous 
will of the Emperor. After that you will 
all be regarded as faithful and obedient sub¬ 
jects.” 

“ Whatever else we may be, we are and will 
remain Catholics, with God’s assistance!” re¬ 
turned the Poles with one voice. 

“No exclamations there—be silent I” cried 
the colonel as drawing his sword, he accom¬ 
panied the Russian priest to the door. A guard 
of soldiers quickly appeared and led the people 
one after the other to the presence of the com¬ 
missioners. The first who was brought up re¬ 
fused to sign the paper, saying, “ I am, and 
will be a Catholic P’ 

“But, my friend, you cannot as such be a 
faithful subject of the Emperor 1 ” 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


243 


“ Remember,” added the colonel, “ that jour 
life is at stake.” 

“ I do remember,’.' said the peasant with a 
resolute air,—“ I know that I have but once to 
die! ” 

Yes, but there are many ways of dying,” 
interposed the priest, who yearned for the honor 
of a conversion, and why would you knowing¬ 
ly expose yourself to the most rigorous tor¬ 
ments ? ” 

“ Suffering and dying for God’s sake, I shall 
be well repaid in eternity I” 

“ Enongh ! ” cried the colonel, “ to the knout 
with this wretch ! ” 

The sentence was forthwith executed, yet the 
victim endured his sufferings without a single 
complaint. Whilst the first wms undergoing the 
torture several others were examined, but no¬ 
thing could* be made of them, and they were 
successively given up to the fury of the execu¬ 
tioners. In order to spare the recital of these 
atrocities, all too sadly attested by history, let 
it suffice to say that the entire parish, men, wo¬ 
men and children, were that day mangled and 
torn with the whip. Even the priest himself, 
in a phrenzy of wrath, was seen to lay hold on 
the knout, and since he could not seduce the 
people from their faith, he lashed them with 
vengeful fury till their blood streamed on the 
pavement. About a hundred of the principal 
•inhabitants were loaded with chains and con¬ 
veyed to the nearest jail, where, however, they 



244 


THE KNOUT, 


could not be received, as it was already filled 
with victims from other parishes. They were 
then huddled together in damp, cold hovels, 
like so many beasts of burden. A short time 
after, having been again cruelly punished, they 
were all restored to liberty, as the authorities 
found it impossible to give even the smallest 
allowance of food to the vast multitudes who 
fille^d their dungeons. 

Meanwhile, Raphael had entered on his peril¬ 
ous journey through Russia proper, and in pro¬ 
portion as he moved farther away from those 
provinces which had been the theatre of the 
late revolution, he found the country more tran¬ 
quil and less disturbed. Being furnished with 
a regular passport he journeyed along without 
any annoyance, as every one took him for a 
harmless traveller, and none dreamed of sus¬ 
pecting him of having any other object in view 
than that which he professed to have. Yet as‘ 
he drew near the goal of his pilgrimage he 
found that a thousand dark presentiments sprang 
up to disturb his mind. Calculating on the data 
in his possession he knew that Rosa and her 
father must have been already three months or 
thereabouts in their dreary exile. Even if Rosa 
had recovered from the effects of her cruel pun¬ 
ishment, was there any reason to hope that she 
could live under the privations, and the suffer¬ 
ings, and the ignominy to be endured in that 
desolate region ? She who had been brought up 
in the enjoyment of all life’s luxuries—she who 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


245 


bad been loved and served as a superior being, 
and whose years had passed away calmly and 
beautifully, how could she outlive the fearful 
blows which had been so relentlessly inflicted— 
exposed to the coarse rude jests of the brutal 
" Russian soldiery, and perhaps kept constantly 
at hard and painful labor ? What an ice-bolt 
shot through RaphaeFs heart as he shudderingly 
asked himself—“ and does she yet live ? ” There 
was every probability that she had sunk under 
the load of her misfortunes, and as this thought 
pressed closer and closer upon him, Raphael 
shrank with timid apprehension from the cer¬ 
tainty which he might soon expect. 

He reached Tobolsk towards the end of March, 
and notwithstanding all his impatience to com¬ 
mence his search he deemed it necessary to lull 
suspicion by employing himself for some time 
in his commercial avocations. Yet in secret he 
made every inquiry that might facilitate his 
great enterprise. 


21 * 


\ 



246 


THE KNOUT. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

On their arrival at Tobolsk, Bialewski and his 
daughter were confined for some time in the 
common prison, at the disposal of the Governor, 
'who was to make known to them the final inten¬ 
tions of the Emperor ; and for fifteen days they 
were treated with all the severity of Russian 
imprisonment. The worst of all was that the fa¬ 
ther and daughter had been pitted in separate 
cells, so that they could hold no sort of commu¬ 
nication with each other. This last stroke over¬ 
whelmed the Count with sorrow and apprehen¬ 
sion, since he could no longer |?ee his child, nor 
protect her from the merciless insults to which 
she was exposed. A mortal anguish preyed upon 
his heart, and life itself must have given way 
beneath the overpowering pressure had not a 
change occurred in the order of things, just when 
it was least expected. One day a message ap¬ 
peared to summon him before the Govenor who 
received him with a show of politeness, and said : 

‘‘ I have to inform you of the decision of the 
Emperor with respect to you, and I also expect 
your daughter here, as she is henceforth to be 
associated in your fate.’' 

“ Oh my God !" exclaimed the Count, unable 
to restrain his joy; “ on this condition I willing¬ 
ly accept whatever else I may have to bear." 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


247 


“ Yes, truly, it is a very great favor which 
our gracious sovereign has conferred upon you, 
and he wishes thereby to let you see that his 
generous heart can feel even for rebellious sub¬ 
jects. Nevertheless, you have committed a gre- 
vious offence against his imperial authority, and 
you are about to learn your final punishment. 
But'here comes your daughter.” 

Just then Rosa entered, and was instantly fold¬ 
ed in her father’s arms; she, too, had feared that 
they were to meet no more on earth, and now 
when she saw him again—when his protecting 
arm once more encircled her, she wept like a 
child in the excess of her joy, until even the 
Governor was touched by the sight of such pure 
and devoted affection. 

“Madame ! ” said he, “this happiness at least 
may still be your|, and I would it were in my 
power to restore to you in like manner all that 
you have lost.” 

“Oh sir!” returned Rosa, with a grateful 
smile, “ we can willingly sacrifice to our country 
that rank and fortune which we have lost—we 
only desire to be left together in our exile.” 

“You shall have that consolation then,” re¬ 
sumed the Governor, who could not help ad¬ 
miring the lofty courage, and calm resignation 
of one so young and apparently so delicate. 
“ So now, my lord the Count! I shall at once let 
you know the orders which I have received. His 
Majesty, in consideration of your former rank, 
will dispense with your labor and that of your 



248 


THE KNOUT, 


daughter, in the mines with the other criminals. 
You shall be in some sort restored to liberty, 
and may live as would a colonist. Still, as your 
estates are confiscated to the crown, you must 
earn your bread ‘ with the sweat of your brow' 
—for 1 am positively forbidden to render you 
any pecuniary assistance. In fact, his Majesty 
considers that he stretches his indulgence too 
far when he does not send you to the mines. 
So now you can choose your dwelling either in 
Tobolsk or within the circuit of a league be¬ 
yond it. You will, however, bear in mind that 
I am never to lose sight of you or your move¬ 
ments.’^ 

The Count bowed in silence, and withdrew 
with his daughter. He was, then, free, and his 
child was restored to him—favors of which he 
had not had the slightest expectation. Alas I 
he was soon undeceived as to the fancied 
clemency of the Czar. True he was free in 
Tobolsk, but in a state of the most complete 
destitution. With much difficulty he discov¬ 
ered, beyond the gates of the city, a small hut 
which might serve to shelter himself and his 
daughter from the rigor of the climate. The 
next thing was to seek some employment which 
would furnish some of the necessaries of life, 
but this was no easy task for one who had fal¬ 
len under the Emperor’s displeasure. So great 
was the fear of displeasing the authorities that 
it extinguished all sense of pity for the suffer¬ 
ings of the unhappy exiles. On the other hand 



A TALE OF POLAND. 


249 


the Count, already advanced in years, knew not 
what work, to apply for; and yet he had not a 
moment to lose, for already the beautiful face 
of his beloved child grew pale and thin for 
want of food. He went from house to house 
offering to give lessons, and to take charge of 
the education of children, but his services 
were everywhere rejected. Weak and ex¬ 
hausted, he was obliged to return to his miser¬ 
able shed, where Rosa met him with a smile 
ineffable sweetness, and said in a voice subdued 
to calmness: 

“ I have been just thinking, my dear father, 
that perhaps I might be more successful than 
you have been in awakening the compassion of 
these people. Will you permit me to make the 
attempt ?—something tells me that I shall have 
good success.” 

“What! you, my child I expose youj-self to 
the jibes and insults of these hard-hearted 
citizens? No! never can I consent, to such a 
thing 1” 

“ My father,” replied Rosa, with celestial 
sweetness, “ we must humble ourselves to the 
lowest, and courageously adore the holy will of 
God. Be assured that he will draw us from 
this abyss of wretchedness, provided we show 
ourselves worthy of his mercy by our unmur¬ 
muring resignation. Give me only an hour or 
two, and you shall see that I will bring you 
good news-” . ^ 

Rosa then presented herself at the doors of 


250 


THE KNOUT, 


several houses, one after the other, but with no 
greater success than her father, as no.one would 
venture to employ an exile. Yet some relief 
must be obtained in order to preserve life, and 
to save her father from the racking torment of 
seeing her whom he loved better than himself 
suffering the pangs of hunger. Conquering by 
a heroic effort, the grievous repugnance where¬ 
with she could not but regard begging, she 
r^olutely held out her hand and solicited 
alms, in a low trembling voice, for she feared 
that they who had refused to employ her would 
not give any gratuitous aid. But this time 
they did not refuse, for it would have been 
next to impossible to see such a sight with¬ 
out being moved to compassion; besides, some 
pieces of money given in secret could not 
compromise any one. Having thus obtained a 
small sum, Rosa returned to her father with 
an assured smile, carefully concealing the means 
by which it.had been acquired. Day by day 
she went out, under pretence of seeking em¬ 
ployment, though the fact was that the noble 
girl, finding that employment would not be 
given her, went from door to door begging tliat 
bread which was to save her father^s life and 
her own. Assuredly she would have preferred 
death a thousand times, but she thought of her 
father, and she thought of her God, who had not, 
when on earth, “ a spot whereon to lay his head,’^ 
and she drew from the remembrance a sort of 
strength which enabled her to persevere. But 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


251 


sueh humility and resignation were not to go 
unrewarded. Having presented herself one 
day at the office of a rich merchant who was 
also a banker, she began as she always did, by 
asking some employment for herself or her 
father The banker much interested by the 
noble bearing of the young supplicant, asked 
“in what way she or her father could make 
themselves useful 

“ My father, sir,” said Rosa modestly, “ can 
undertake the situation of clerk or accountant, 
and for myself, I would give lessons to young 
ladies in music and French, with other branches 
of education.” 

The merchant seemed to reflect for some 
minutes, then making a sign for Rosa to await 
his return, he went out. In a short time he re¬ 
appeared with his wife and two young girls. 
Having interrogated the young stranger, this, 
gentleman and his wife quickly discovered that 
she was well able to perform what she under¬ 
took, and they requested her to bring her father 
to them. Next day both father and daughter 
were engaged—the Count as office-clerk, and 
Rosa as governess to the young ladies. It is 
true the remuneration was miserably small, for 
the merchant had not failed to take advantage 
of their necessitous condition; but they, wha 
were only too much rejoiced to obtain any little; 
certainty, thankfully accepted the offered con¬ 
ditions. In order not to compromise himself 
or his family, the banker had stipulated that tha 



252 


THE KNOUT, 


father and daughter should not live in his house, 
so every evening they repaired to their wretched 
hovel, each concealing from the other the priva¬ 
tions and the hardships which they had to 
endure. 

Let us now return to Raphael, whom we left 
prosecuting his secret inquires after the beloved 
exiles. Adroitly availing himself of his charac¬ 
ter of a travelling merchant, he took every op¬ 
portunity of acquiring information. Little was 
to be learned in that way, however, for no one 
wished to speak on the subject of politics, or to 
hazard any remarks on the condition of any of 
the exiles. He, then watched his opportunity 
to converse with some one of those unfortunate 
Poles who wandered in the streets houseless and 
homeless. Accordingly, having one day en¬ 
countered a young man, apparently about twenty 
years of age, whose dark, animated countenance 
at once announced him as a son of Poland, Ra¬ 
phael contrived to bring him to his own lodgings. 

“ My friend,’’ said he, “ are you a Pole ? ” 

“ Yes, that I am! ” rejoined the other, “ what 
would you of me ? ” 

“ Most probably you were sent here for being 
implicated in the last rebellion—-am I right?” 

“ Rebellion! ” repeated the youth with indigr 
nant emphasis, “I can never recognise as rebel¬ 
lion the generous efforts of an entire nation to 
shake off the dread yoke of foreign tyranny! ” 

“ Nor can I,” exclaimed Raphael, with an 
entire change of manner, and holding out his 


A TALE OP POLAND. 


253 


hand to the noble youth; “ but in our present 
position it behoves us to understand the opin¬ 
ions of those to TTiiom we speak, particularly if 
we would speak of political events, or persons 
therein concerned. I, too, am a Pole, and 1 
wish to know if you can tell me where the Count 
Bialewski now is,—for I am sure you are ac¬ 
quainted with his name ! ” 

“ What Pole is there who knows not that 
honored name?” returned the young man. 

Yes, I can tell you something about him, and 
about his daughter, too, for they are both em- 
ployed in a merchant’s house here in this city, 
and I can show it to you in a day or two, when 
I have inquired of some of my comrades who 
have had occasion to see my lord the Count t ” 
“ By obtaining this information for me as soon 
as you possibly can, you will confer on me a 
very great favor. And now how can I serve 
you ? ” • 

By giving me your esteem!” 

“ Oh! as to that I will go farther,” said Ra¬ 
phael, “ for my friendship shall be yours; but 
suffer me to offer you this purse—you may find 
its contents most useful here, and you will not, 
I hope, refuse it, for I offer it not as a gift, but 
as a debt due to a brother in distress.” 

“ Since such are your sentiments, sir, I wfll 
accept your friendly offer, with the intention of 
sharing your donation with my companions in 
misfortune. And now farewell, sir, I must bo 
J2 




254 


THE KNOUT, 


off, lest SO long an interview with an exile might 
bring suspicion on you.’’ 

Raphael was now completely relieved of his 
month-long burden of anxiety. Rosa and her 
father both lived, and in a few days he hoped 
to see them and spe^Tk with tliem. While musing 
on this delightful prospect, he never gave a 
thought to the many dangers and difficulties still 
to be met and surmounted before he could attain 
his end. But when the first fervor of his rejoic¬ 
ing had cooled down to so!)er reason, he could 
shut his eyes to these things as he had done. 
Having once obtained an interview with the 
Count, and come to an understanding v.dth him 
on v/hat was to be done, it would be absolutely 
neccessary to act with promptitude, so that the 
Russian police might have no time to thwart the 
execution of their plans. Raphael, therefore, 
lost not a moment in making those arrangements 
which might facilitate their proposed escape. In 
the first place (as quitting Tobolsk was by no 
means difficult) it was to be considered whither 
they would bend their course so as to escape from 
the vast,empire of Russia. At one time it had 
occurred to Raphael that he could avail himself 
still of his passport, and with Rosa as bis wife, 
and to pass her father as a servant, they might 
go through the Russian dominions as easily and 
as securely as he had come when alone. But this 
plan was scarcely a moment entertained, for the 
passport made no mention of wife or domestic, 
and besides, as the-fliglit of the two exiles would 


r 



A TALE OP POLAND. 


255 


ho quickly spread abroad, there was but little 
chance of their not being detected. And yet 
what other plan could be devised ? The map of 
all the Russias was open before Raphael’s eyes, 
and he considered it over and over, hoping to 
discover some surer way to elude the pursuit of 
the enemy. Following the line of the Ural 
mountains, the natural barrier between Siberia 
and Russia in Europe, he came out on those im¬ 
mense steppes which stretch from the shores of 
the Caspian to those of the Black Sea. This 
route would be at least one half shorter than 
that by which Raphael had reached Tobolsk, 
and that in itself was a great advantage'. More¬ 
over, it lay through regions entirely uninhabited, 
or peopled by Oriental tribes, who still retained 
their primitive mode of life, wandering about 
with their flocks from pasture to pasture. It 
also occurred to Raphael that, in order to keep 
up his character as a commercial traveller, it 
would be well to go as soon as possible to a cel¬ 
ebrated fair which was held at Tebit, within a 
short distance of the Ural chain. That fair was 
attended by all the Asiatic tribes who acknowl¬ 
edged the dominion of the Czar, and by other 
nations of those regions who went to Tebit to 
dispose of the varied productions of their art or 
industry. Once there, it would be easy jto make 
arrangements with one of those long caravans, 
under whose protection they miglit reach the 
Black Sea, and thence take shipping for Con¬ 
stantinople. Such, then, was the plan to which 



256 


THE KNOUT. 


Raphael turned all his attention, as presenting 
more and greater chances of success than any 
other he could project. 

His object now was to get rid of as much of 
his merchandise as would enable him to execute 
his- plan. With this intention he repaired to 
the counting-house of a sort of merchant-banker, 
where, under pretext of preparing for the ap¬ 
proaching fair, he hoped to dispose of his wares 
for gold. He was shown into a large hall 
usually occupied as an office, and here he found 
the banker’s wife, who sat at a desk making out, 
as it seemed,' some accounts. Near the stove 
sat two young girls engaged jjt their studies, 
under the inspection of a governess. When Ra¬ 
phael had explained to the lady the object of 
his visit, he turned mechanically to look at the 
little group around the stove, and no sooner had 
his eye fallen on the young teacher than he re¬ 
cognised in her his long lost Rosa—pale she 
was and much emaciated—meanly clad, too, she 
was, but still it was Rosa—liis priceless Rosa! 
So overpowered was he by the sudden rush of 
joyous surprise, that he felt himself stagger 
from sheer weakness, and was obliged to- sit 
down. His eyes filled with tears as he looked 
on Rosa—still calm and composed, though, alas! 
so changed. 

“ You are not well, sir, I perceive,” observed 
the banker’s wfe, as she noticed his sudden 
Taintness. These words were sufficient to excite 



A TALE OF POLAND. 257 


Rosa’s attention, and she fixed her eyes on the 
stranger. 

“OhI it is nothing, madam,” said Raphael, 
endeavoring to regain his composure, nothing 
but a trifling pain v/hich is already passing 
away.” 

Rosa listened, and she could not be mistaken 
in that voice: “My G-od!” she exclaimed half 
audibly, and getting up as though she would 
have rushed into Raphael’s arms. 

But Raphael knew too well the danger of 
such a recognition in such a place, and he turned 
towards Rosa just time enough to arrest her 
motion. “ I thank you. Mademoiselle,, you are 
very good; but I do not now require that you 
should trouble yourself about me, as I am per¬ 
fectly recovered from my weakness ! ” 

But while he spoke thus his look assured Rosa 
that he had recognized her, and that they would 
soon meet when they could speak freely. Rosa 
sank again on her seat, trembling with joy, but 
resolved to restrain her feelings lest Raphael 
might be compromised. So little had she looked 
for his appearance that she could scarcely per¬ 
suade herself that all was not a dream. Fear¬ 
ful lest it might be so, she kept her eyes fixed 
on Raphael’s face, observed every look and ges¬ 
ture of his, and followed all his motions. Yet 
w’hen he retired, she was not able to return his 
parting look and sign, fearing that she might 
be observed. A little reflection sufficed to ex¬ 
plain to her all the heroic devotion of her lius- 
22 » 



258 


THE KNOUT, 


band, and it required all her habitual self con¬ 
trol to conceal her rapturous joy. Her father 
had been sent out on business, and when he re¬ 
turned she tried to inform him of Raphaels 
arrival ]fy signs, but as she dared not venture 
on even a word of explanation in such a pres¬ 
ence, her signs and significant looks only served 
to excite the Count’s uneasiness, still more his 
curiosity, for he no more than Rosa had ever 
dreamed of Raphael’s undertaking such a jour¬ 
ney on their account. No sooner had the clock 
announced the usual hour of their departure 
than Rosa drew her father into the street with 
the utmost eagerness for she longed to communi¬ 
cate her glad tidings. 

“ Father!” said she, “ I have something so 
extraordinary to tell you that you may well 
doubt, as I at first did, whether I am not de¬ 
ceived by some visual illusion !” 

“ What can it be my child?—All this aftei- 
noon I saw that you were unusually restless and 
agitated.” 

“ Raphael is here father!—I have seen him!” 

“ Raphael!—You have seen him?—how?— 
can it be possible ?■’ 

“Yes, my dearest father! I saw him as 
plainly as I now see you!” She then related 
the particulars of her strange meeting with 
Raphael, while the Count listened with almost 
stupid wonder, scarcely daring to credit what he 
had heard. Butother evidence was forthcoming, 
for they were scarcely an hour at home when 


A TALE OF POLAND. 


259 


a quick, loud knocking was heard at the 
door. 

“ Great God I It is Raphael himselfcried 
Rosa, as she ran to open the door. Breathless 
and trembling she threw back the frail door, 
when Raphael caught her in his arms, and the 
Count encircled both in his embrace. For some 
time not a word was spoken, for each wept in 
silence as the memory of the past came back 
.with double force. But, after a little while, 
this sadness passed away in the returning sense 
of present happiness, and many a question was 
mutually asked and answered on the events 
of the melancholy months since they parted. 
It was not long till Raphael spoke of his plans, 
and of the hopes he entertained of their suc¬ 
cess. The Count entirely approved of their 
escaping rather through the Asiatic regions, as 
the Russian police would never think of pur¬ 
suing them in that direction; and even if they 
were pursued, it would then bd comparatively 
easy to conceal themselves. It was then the 
opening of Spring, and in a few days after, our 
travellers set out, mounted on excellent horses, 
for Tebit where by means of some presents to cer¬ 
tain merchants, they were received into a caravan 
of Armenian merchants who engaged to leave 
them in safety at a port of the Black Sea. 
They reached their destination without any 
interruption, the police having, as they had ex¬ 
pected, pursued them on the other route. They 
arrived at Constantinople in good health and 


260 


THE KNOUT. 


spirits, and full of gratitude to Him wlio had 
brought them forth from bondage, for now thev 
had nothing to fear from the vengeance of their 
enemies. Having' reposed some time in the 
city of file Sultan, they set out for Italy and 
•ktook up their residence in Rome, the common 
home of all faithful Catholics. When there, 
Raphael speedily wrote to his kind host at 
Culm, who lost no time in transmitting the 
treasure left in his keeping. Happily and tran¬ 
quilly passed the days and the years with these 
noble exiles, though they never lost sight of 
their unfortunate country or ceased to implore 
for her the protection of that God who rules 
the nations, and who breaks the sceptre of 
kings in the day of wrath. But He is patient, 
because all time is his, and because he is eter¬ 
nal, and when it seems meet to his infinite wis¬ 
dom He will avenge the wrongs of Poland and 
raise her again to her place amongst the king¬ 
doms of the earth 1 




PHILADELPHIA 

CHEAP 

CATHOLIC BOOKSTORE. 


PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, 

Bookseller & Publisher, Dealer in Foreign & American Catho¬ 
lic Books & Catholic Goods, School Books & Stationeryi 

No. 216 SOUTH THIRD STREET, PHILADA. 


The largest and best assorted stock to be found In Philadelphia kept 
on hand, and purchasers should bear in mind, that every article wiU bo 
•old at the lowest possible prices. 

liberal discount will be made Booksellers, Country Dealers, and 
ho Clergymen, Colleges, Schools, Religious Institutions, and to all whe 
buy in quantity. 

4S“A11 orders for any description of Books, or Catholic, or other goods, 
wUi bo promptly attended to, on the most reasonable terms. 


Foreign Standard 
Works; 

Dublin, London and 
Paris Publications; 

Altar Missals, 
BREVIARIES, RITUALS, 
Theological Works, 
Writings of the Holy 
Fathers, 

And a large assort¬ 
ment of WORKS in the 
French and 
Latin Languages; 

Fancy Catholic Goods. 

Prayer Beads, ’ 
CRUCIFIXES 
Iloly Water Fonts, * 
Statuary, , 

MEDALS A CROSSES 
of Gold, 

Silver and Brass; 
PICTURES . 

Of the different sizes! 
And a 

Large variety of 
CATUOLIC GOOES. 













































































j PETER F. CUWNNINGHAM 

j Respectfully announces that he is still’located at ‘‘The Old Stand,” 
where he is always jirepared to attend to the orders of his numerous 
Catholic friends. He has recently very much increased his stock of 

FOREIGN AND AP.IERICAN CATHOLIC BOOKS, 

And he is constantly adding all the new works as they are issued from 
the press; he can, therefore, safely assure his numerous patrons that his 
stock istliow the largest and most varied of any in Philadelphia. 

He has con.stantly on hand the s'arious Catholic Books published in 
the United States, which he is prepared to supply on the most reasonable 
terms. Ho is also happy to announce that he has made arrangements 
vrith the principal publi.shers in New York, Boston, Baltimore, and in 
Philadelphia, to supply their hooks, WHOLESALE AND RETAIL, 
at the publishers’ lowest prices. He is always well supplied with 

FANCY CATHOLIC ARTICLES, 

Consisting of PRAYER BEADS, of Pearl, Silver, Coral, Amber, Corne¬ 
lian and Cocoa, strung on silver wire, and neatly ornamented, together 
■with a large variety of cheap Beads, by the dozen or gross. CRUCI¬ 
FIXES and CROSSES, of every size arjd quality, with carved and ca.st 
figures of Wood, Ivory and Brass, forming a large variety; together with 
a very extensive collection of Small Crosses, of Gold, Silver and Brass, 
Pearl, Cornelian, Ebony, &c.; Gold and Silver Medals and Medallions; 

* Silver Reliquaries, Holy Wf^er Fonts, Shitu.try, Scapulars, Pictures in 
great variety, Bisque Figures, and a large collection of other Catholic 

j» ticlss 

BIBLES AND PRAYER BOOKS. 

His stock of BIBLES is very extensive, comprising splendid Folio and 
Quarto Family Biblm, which may be had in plain and in the most beau¬ 
tiful styles of binding, together with a great variety of cheap Bibles, 
ranging in prices from one dollar upwards, viz: 

DUNIGAN’S SPLENDID FOLIO BIBLE, with Heydock’s notes, com¬ 
plete. Bound in Turkey Morocco Sup. Extra, American Morocco beau¬ 
tifully Gilt Sides and Edges, Roan Gilt, Calf and Calf Gilt, and various 
cheaper bindings. 

SADLIER’S SPLENDID QUARTO BIBLE. Magnificently hound in 
f Morocco, with Medallion .sides, and w'ith Clasps, Turkey Morocco, Imita¬ 
tion Morocco, Roan and Roan Gilt, and in Calf and Sheep bindings. 

SMALL QUARTO BIBLES, in various styles. Octavo, 12mo. and 
Pocket Editions, forming a large collection; and varying in prices, accord¬ 
ing to size and quality of the binding, say from $1 up to $20. 

His stock of PRAYER BOOKS is by far the largest of any in Philadel¬ 
phia, and having a very great demand for Prayer Books, ho is enabled 
to sell them at exceedingly low prices. Canvassers and country dealers 
slioukl recollect this fiict, and purchase their Books at this cheap store, 
where they can select from a largo stock. 

ISiMO PRAYRIJi, BOOKS. Beautifully hound in Velvet, Ornamented 
in the most splendid style, with Clasps, and Medallions carved in Ivory, 
bound in Papier Mache, Turkey Morocco Super Extra, American Mo¬ 
rocco Tull gilt edges and sides. Roan and Roan Gilt, and in Sheep bind¬ 
ings, varying in prices from 50 cents to $16. ) 


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24MO PRAYER BOOKS, in every variety of bindings, from 37V< cents' 
to f’lO. 32mo and smaller Pocket Prayer Books in great variety,*and at 
prices varying from 12 cents uj^wurd, according to the style. 

BCOKS OF DEVOTION AMD MEDITATION. 

He has always a good selection of Devotional Books, Controversial 
Works, and Books on the Doctrines of the Church. 

He is happy to announce that he has made very satisfactory arrange¬ 
ments, which enables him to supply, on very reasonable terms, 


FOREIGN STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS, 

Comprising all the principal IRISH, ENGLISH, AND FRENCH publi¬ 
cations, as well as the Mechlya editions of Altax Missals, Breviaries, 
Diurnals. Rituals, Theological and other Latin and French works, suit¬ 
able for the reverend clergy. 

4®“0rder3 for Foreign Books w'il! bo punctually attended to. 

j SCHOOL BOOKS AND SCHOOL REQUISITES, 

j Can be supplied to Colleges, Schools, Seminaries, <S:c., on as reasonable 
I terms as at any other store in the United States. 

I BOOKS FOR PREMIUMS. 

A very extensive collection of Bocks and Catholic Goods, suitable for 
premiums, may be had at the usual low rates; and he respectfully asks 
of all those who may require such Books, to give him a call and examine 
his stock before purchasing elsewhere. 


The subscriber respectfully calls attention to the following favorite 
and very popular works, recently published by him, viz: 

THE LIFE OF ST. ROSE OF LIMA,” and “THE LIFE OF MARY , 
ANN OF JESUS,” or, the “ Lily of Quito.” 

These two edifring volumes, form the first and second of a series of ! 
“THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS AND SERVANTS OF GOD,” which | 
he contemplates presenting in due time to his American readers. The j 
volumes already published have been translated by Clergymen distin- | 
guished in the Church, and printed with the approbation of the Right j 
Rev. Bishop of Philadelphia. The price, too, is so very reasonable that i 
it is in the power of every Catholic in tlie country to study the history i 
of these tw’o extr aordinary American Virgins. Price, 50 cents a voluume. 


The subscriber respectfully informs the Reverend Clergy and his 
Catholic friends throughout the country, that he is prepared to receive 
subscriptions for the following Catholic Ncwspaper.s and Periodicals: 

Dublin Review, Metropolitan, Brownson’s Review. American Celt, 
Boston Pilot, Catholic Herald, Catholic Mirror, Catholic Instructor, 
Dublin Tablet, Catholic Standard, or any other Foreign or American 
Newspaper’, Periodical, or Catholic woz'k. 


















FOREIGN STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS 
kept constantly on hand, and additions regularly 
made of the principal works published in ENG¬ 
LAND and IRELAND, and sold at the lowest 
possible prices. 


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Archer’s Sermons, 2 vols. 8vo. 

Abbe McCarthy’s Sermons, 1 v. 8vo 
Bourdaloe’s Sermons, 1 vol. 8to. 
Gahan’s Sermons, 1 vol, 8vo. 
Moroney’s Sermons, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Peach’s Sermons, 

Whites Sermons, 1 vol. 8vo. 

St. Ligouri’s Sermons, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Wheeler’s Sermons, 2 vols. 8vo. 
Baron Geramb’s Journey to Rome. 
Butler’s Discourses and Medita¬ 
tions, 2 vols. 

Cannons and Decrees of the Coun¬ 
cil of Trent. 

Councils of a Christian Mother. 
Ceremonial According to the Ro¬ 
man Rite. 

Duties and Happiness of Domestic 
Service, 

Eternal Happiness of the Saints 
Faith of Catholics, Svols. 8vo. 
Flowers of Heaven, 1 vol, 18mo, 
Gothers Instructions on the Epis¬ 
tles and Gospels, 

Higher Paths in Spiritual Life, 
Hierurgia, by Rev, Dr, Rock. 
Interior Castle, by St. Teresa, 
Interior of Jesus and. Mary, 
Ilngard’s Hist of England, 10 v. 
Lingard’s Antiquities of the Anglo 
Saxon Church. 

Lives of the Most Eminent Pain¬ 
ters, &c., of the Order of St. Do¬ 
minic, 2 vols. 8vo. 

Life of St. Francis of Sales, 2 vols. 
Life of Calvin—Audin, 

Life of Luther—Audin, 

Life of Henry VIII—Audin, 

Life of St. Ligouri, 5 vols.. 

Lives of the Companions of St. 
Ligouri. 

Faber’s Lives of Modern Saints, 40 
vols. already published, 12 mo. 
Life of St. Teresa, 1 vol. 12mo. 

Way of Perfection, 1 vol, 12mo. 
Book of Foundation, by St. Teresa. 
MoUales Evidences and Doctrines 


of the Catholic Church, 1 vo’. 
Meditations on tho Holy Child ood 
of our Lord. 

Sketches of Catholic Life. 

Mores Catholici, 3 vols., 8vo., 
Moehler’s Symbolism, 2 vols. 8vo, 
Month of June. 

Paganism in Education, 

Perfect Religion, 

Pious Christian, 

St Ligouri's Hist, of Heresies, 2vs. 
St. Ligouri’s Triumph of Martyrs, 
St. Ligouri’s Discourses and Nov- 
enas. 

St. Ligouri’s Nun Sanctified, 

St. Ligouri Defense of Council the 
of Trent. 

Science of the Saints, 4 vols. 

St. Peter, his Name and his Ofiice. 
Stones Spiritual Retreat. 

Soliloquies Before and After Com¬ 
munion. 

Temporal and Eternal, 

The One Thing Needful. 

The Power of the Popes in the Mid¬ 
dle Ages. 

Use and Abuse of the Bible. 
Appleton’s Analysis of the Sacred 
Scriptures, I vol. 3vo. 

Massilon’s Sermons, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Oakley’s Sermons, I vol. 9vo. 
Anima Amant, or the Soul loving 
God. 

Cardinal Wiseman’s E.ssays, 

De Pont’s Meditations, 6 vols. 

The Pope Considered in his Rela 
tions to the Church—De Maistre 
The End of the World—Pagan i. 
The Manna of the New Covenant— 
Pagani. 

Tho Sinner's Complaint to God, 

The Love of God, by St. Frances de 
Sales. 

Calderon’s Swed Dramas. 
Sufferings of Christ, 1 vol. 

Peaches Practica Keflectiou.s 













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